Tricked
by TJ-TeeJay
Summary: When it comes to dealing with the paper, there are lots of decisions to make for Gary Hobson. But what if Gary makes the wrong descision at one point? Chuck's life may be at stake as Gary is forced to choose between a shootout and a bus accident. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**  
So, this is my second attempt at writing an Early Edition story. It has nothing to do with my first one ("If you had one wish..."), though. No, this one is completely independent and takes place under totally different circumstances. I had been planning to write a sequel to "If you had one wish..." but somehow "Tricked" developed into a different direction. It simply wasn't going to work any other way... However, I'm still planning to write a sequel one day. It might be a long time coming, though, depends on how many creative fits strike me in the meantime. : )  
Frighteningly, I realized that this story has some parallels to the episode "The Choice" while I watched it again yesterday... That wasn't intentional, actually. Maybe it was a subconscious thing...  
There's also an ER crossover touch to this one, but it's not enough to call it a real crossover story, I guess. I just felt I had to make ER a little part of this story... Anyway, I hope you enjoy this "non-sequel"!

Again, I have to remark that I'm not up to date with all the episodes, even with the first season ones. I don't know if anything was ever mentioned in the series about Chuck's family. So, please excuse any inconsistencies that might appear between this story and the actual events in the series.  
And: Sorry guys, my story still uses the settings of the first season, 'cause I just don't know the second season (yet?). (Okay, I do know half the 2nd season now but it simply was too much trouble to rewrite everything, so you still have to do with the 1st season settings. Sorry! Consider it nostalgia,... g>)

Thanx to Alex and Christiane for helping me get out of my writer's block at some point! And also thanx to peregrin anna, Maryilee, and inkling without whose wonderful beta-reading this story would be only half as good, I guess!

**Disclaimer:**  
Early Edition, its characters and situations belong to CBS and Tristar pictures. No copyright infringement is intended.  
The same goes for ER, except its situations and characters belong to NBC and Warner Brothers.

PG-13 - ALERT!  
There's occasional light swearing and some quite graphic medical scenes in here. Just thought I'd better warn you... :o)

--...----...----...--

Tricked  
part 1

_by TeeJay_

...----...----...--

**Chuck's monologue:**  
_Life's all about decisions. Whether you make the right ones... or the wrong ones. But sometimes the right decision is the wrong one. This doesn't make sense? Well, in a way it does, I guess. Decisions can be hard to make sometimes. Take my friend Gary here. He used to think making decisions wasn't so bad. Until the paper showed up at his doorstep..._

"Gary, are you sure?"

"Oh, damn, Chuck, no, I'm not sure! How could I be?"

Gary and Chuck were arguing in Gary's hotel room. "Chuck, you can never remember anyone's birthday!"

"What! Me? I know your birthday for sure! It's on April 20th!"

"24th, Chuck!"

"24th, right."

"There, you see. I told you!"

"Well, I know **my **birthday."

"Great! And how's that gonna help us?"

"I'm saying it's Marissa's birthday tomorrow. Yeah." Chuck nodded to underline his conviction. "Yeah, I'm sure it is."

"And I'm telling you it's not. It's next month. The 3rd. June 3rd."

"You wanna bet?"

"Bet? With you? No no no, Chuck, no way."

"All right. And what if you're wrong? How do we look then? She's gonna think we forgot her birthday."

"And how's it gonna look if we make a big birthday party and it's not her birthday?" Gary rolled his eyes and went over to his little kitchenette to get some more coffee. He gestured to Chuck to ask if he wanted some, too. Chuck waved no with his hand. It was always the same with Chuck. Once he had made up his mind, it was difficult to convince him he was wrong. Though Gary wasn't so convinced that he was right, either.

"Come on, Chuck. Just to be on the safe side, why don't you go over to the office and pull in a few favors there. Someone must know when Marissa's birthday is."

Chuck eventually resigned. The ever-wise Gary Hobson had spoken. But he was probably right. Embarrassing themselves in front of Marissa didn't seem too good a situation. But he had to add, "I'm telling you, it's tomorrow."

"Yeah, Chuck," Gary said in mock-belief.

Chuck glanced at his watch. "I'd better be on my way." He strode towards the door, carefully trying to catch a glimpse of one of the paper's headlines, preferably on the sports page. But Gary had already anticipated his move and with a forbidding "Don't!" he snatched the paper away from the counter it was lying on. Chuck defensively lifted his hands, a little embarrassed to be caught in the act. Again. Then, he exited the hotel room with a cheerful "See ya, buddy".

"See ya, Chuck."

_So, back to basics, _Gary thought. He sat down at his table and skimmed through the headlines. The ever present morning routine was about to fall back into place. So far, the morning had been uneventful. He had got up at 6:30, which, as usual was way too early. The cat had been fed, the paper been rescued from the doorstep and Gary had fought his early morning battle with himself about whether to go to bed again or to stay up. Eventually, Chuck had made that decision for him as he had dropped by before work once again.

Nothing special had been revealed in the paper so far. Just the usual political stuff, minor skirmishes that really didn't need any intervention. Small accidents with no big damage done. No, he didn't need to get out for that kind of trouble. _Funny, _Gary mused, _a few months earlier I would have done anything to save even these people._ He had changed, so much was obvious. He now set priorities, he had to. He thought how the paper might slowly be bringing him closer to ulcers with each day. Actually, it had gotten him into hospital more than once already. _Is it really worth it? Is it? _He was skeptically looking at the cat which was happily licking the last drops out of the bowl of milk. But alas, the cat couldn't provide him with more answers. Or maybe it could, only Gary wasn't able to understand it.

It really seemed like the paper was giving him an easy day. Find some time for Gary to relax. However, there was one thing. There was an old lady to save. The paper said she would be walking her little Yorkshire terrier which was going to be run over by a car. As a consequence, the old lady died on the spot of a heart attack. Gary still had over an hour until this was going to occur. He was contemplating if he should take the El or if he should simply take a cab. It was at the other end of town, however. He'd have to change trains twice if he took the El. No, after all this was going to be a lazy day, so he went for the cab idea, definitely.

His gaze went over to his little kitchen where the dirty dishes had piled up so high that he feared the dish-tower would crumble at the slightest breeze. _Uh oh,_ he thought and went to work with a sigh of resignation. _Now, where the hell was the sponge? Ah, there it was._

--...----...----...--

Gary dried his hands on a towel and rolled down the sleeves of his checked lumberjack-style shirt. It was time to head for the "adventure". There had been a time when he had considered going out for the paper's sake an adventure. But not anymore. Nowadays, it only wore him out. There was the thrill of satisfaction, however, once he had saved another unfortunate person. But with it came the frustration of not getting any acknowledgement for his good deeds as those people never knew what they had been saved from. At least in most cases. Which was only for the best. Mostly. Gary took his jacket and left. The cat went sneaking through his legs like a flash, once he opened the door. Gary only shook his head. If only he knew what went through its little brain...

_Oh, to hell with it all!_ Gary thought when he exited the cab. Why did all the other people have to take the same route as he did? It seemed to him that everyone in this city had conspired against him. And the day had started so promising. But once Gary had left the door, everything had just started to go wrong. First, no cab had felt the need to stop for him. He had been left standing at the side of the road, waving and yelling at every cab that passed but none had stopped for ten minutes. When he had finally got one, the driver's English was so poor that Gary had to use his rusty and very limited knowledge in Spanish to get to the place he wanted to go. No, he didn't _want _to go there, he needed to. It had nothing to do with pleasure. Anyway, the driver kept babbling on in Spanish the whole way and Gary actually didn't have the slightest clue as to what amazing stories he had been told there. Then they miraculously had managed to get stuck in the only traffic jam at this time of day in the whole of Chicago. At least Gary had gotten to his destination in time. He looked at the newspaper again.

>_At approximately 8:30 a.m., yesterday, an 84-year-old woman collapsed when her pet Yorkshire terrier ran into the street and was struck and killed by a passing motorist. Emergency medical procedures rendered at the scene were ineffective, and the victim died before she could be transported to a nearby hospital._

That was how the article started. Gary had a look at his watch. It showed 8.24. He kept looking out for an old woman with a dog. It could happen any minute now. There was no old woman he could spot. Not yet. He watched the people hurry by. They all seemed preoccupied with their own business. No one looked at anyone in particular, everyone just stared ahead, rushing his or her own way without caring for anyone else. _What is the world coming to, these days?_ he began to wonder. If people would care more for others, would open their eyes to the world around them a little more, maybe these things he was just trying to prevent wouldn't happen so often. He suddenly realized he was drifting off to philosophical musings, so he mentally reminded himself that he had more important things to do than to worry about today's society's conscience.

And there she was. A rather fragile looking woman, walking one of those little furry dogs. She was on the other side of the road, so Gary sprinted across the road. He had been so focused on the woman that he almost didn't see the black sports car rushing dangerously in his direction. He jumped a step back and the car missed him by about two inches. He quickly recovered from the shock and attempted to cross the road again. This time he managed without nearly getting run over. He ran over to the old lady and shouted, "Hey, Ma'am!" She was walking with her back to him. "Ma'am, I need to speak with you for a moment." She didn't turn round and kept on walking. _Must be hard of hearing... _Gary went closer and tapped her on the shoulder rather impatiently. Actually, he hadn't intended to tap her so hard. With a sudden move she faced him, holding her hand to her heart. "What do you think you're doing, Mister!" she snapped at him. "Do you always frighten women like that? For a moment I thought my heart would stop!"

"I... I'm sorry!" Gary was frantically searching for words. _He_ was sorry! He had just saved that woman's life. Sorry was the last thing he needed to be. But of course the woman couldn't know that, could she? "I just wanted to ask you about your dog."

That was the best Gary could come up with for the moment. "I... I was considering getting a Scotch terrier myself."

"Moogie is **not **a Scotch terrier! If you knew anything about dogs you would certainly recognize that she is a Yorkshire terrier, Mister!" She bent down towards the dog, "Aren't you, my little Moogie Poogie?"

"Look, I- I- I didn't mean to insult your dog!"

"But they are lovely little creatures, aren't they?" the woman said in a much softer tone. "Moogie has been my companion for over 11 years now, ever since my husband died. She's so gorgeous sometimes. Every time we go shopping she insists on sitting in the cart. You know, dogs aren't allowed in there, normally, but I just can't leave her outside. Her whining just breaks my heart. Even the shop assistants tolerate her in the shop by now. And on the way home..."

_God, I shouldn't have started talking about the dog!_ Gary realized. He had the distinct feeling that if he kept the conversation flowing he'd never get to leave. So, he cut the woman off in mid-speech. "Excuse me, Ma'am, this is all very fascinating but I have to get going again. My boss is waiting for his morning paper." He waved the paper in front of her. _God, what a stupid excuse! _"Thank you for the information, anyway." He was just about to turn around and yell for a cab when he sensed a resistance at his trouser-leg. The little beast of a dog had fiercely stuck its teeth into the cloth of his jeans and seemed intent on never letting go. He shook his leg but the dog only tightened his grip on it. The old lady didn't seem to care too much, though.

"Er, could you...?" Gary demanded, indicating the dog.

"Come on, Moogie, let that gentleman go." she said in a tone much too soft for accomplishing anything. She tried pulling at the lead which also didn't help much. So, Gary just wrestled his leg loose with the necessary force. An unpleasant sound of tearing fabric accompanied the action but at least his leg was free. He quickly turned away and took a step back to a safe distance. The lady attempted to scold her little Moogie. "You nasty little thing, Moogie, good dogs don't bite gentlemen's trousers!" But Moogie just looked at her with an utterly innocent glance and went sniffing for the next interesting smell she could detect. So, the old lady just tilted her head and made her way towards wherever she was going. No word of excuse, no apology, nothing.

_Yeah, you're welcome_ But Gary should be used to this sort of situation by now. He was rarely thanked for his actions. He carefully inspected his leg. There was a big tear in the lower part of the left leg of his jeans. What luck that it had only been the fabric. He didn't dare imagine what he would look like if there had been flesh between Moogie's teeth... _Moogie! _he thought, _How can anyone give a dog a pathetic name like that? _He had never liked these little lap-dogs, anyway. And his most recent encounter had only reinforced his opinion. With a sigh, he turned to go. This time he was heading for the El station. No cab this time, he had had it for today.

--...----...----...--

Chuck took a large bite of his savory burger. Ketchup dripped from the other end onto the stack of paper that lay before him on his desk. _Uh oh!_ he thought and quickly tried to wipe it off with his hand, which only produced one more greasy stain on the report he had just finished. Suddenly, his boss rounded the corner. Chuck desperately tried to hide the hamburger behind the back of his chair, while he swiftly turned the office chair around, so that Pritchard couldn't see what he had just indulged in. At least Chuck hoped he couldn't see it. "Fishman, how is that report coming?"

"Almost ready."

"I expect it on my desk in five minutes, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Pritchard turned to go and Chuck let out a mental sigh of relief. But then his boss turned again. "Fishman, didn't we recently discuss eating during working hours?"

"Er, yeah, I think we did."

"So, don't give me a reason to sack you, I just as easily might."

Chuck blushed. It was always the same. First Gary, who didn't let him have even the slightest glimpse at the paper, and now this! Was he really that clumsy? Moreover, Chuck had also tried to wipe the grease off his fingers quickly but he hadn't been able to find anything to use as a towel. So, he had taken some paper that had been lying on his desk. He now looked at what it had been. _Oh no, not the Rottman Calculations! _It had taken Chuck hours to get them right. He looked at the report Pritchard had demanded. It showed some slightly red greasy marks right in the middle of it, as well as a nice clear grease-fingerprint. _I can't hand it in like this! _Oh boy, he was in trouble. **Big** trouble! There was no way he could type it again that quickly. _Cook! _shot through his head. _Julia Cook. _She was working two booths to the right and hell, she was the quickest typist he knew. He went over to her booth. "Julia, my dear, did I already tell you that you look wonderful today?"

"All right, what is it this time, Mr. Fishman?"

Chuck hadn't expected to be this predictable. But she was right, wasn't she? So, he got to the point immediately. "I had a... a sort of an accident. And I was wondering if you could maybe type this for me again?" he carefully probed.

"I think I could probably arrange that. Just put it on my desk, I'll get to it as soon as possible."

"Er, that wasn't what I had in mind. I was thinking more along the lines of right now."

"Well well well. That's a bit too much to ask, is it not?"

"Oh come on, Julie! Didn't you owe me a favor, anyway?"

"Me? Hah!" she said with a dismissive hand-wave. "I can distinctly remember at least three favors _you _owe me."

"Okay." Chuck offered. "What about a dinner tonight? You choose the restaurant."

"That sounds more like it."

"So, we have a deal?"

She nodded and then looked at the ketchup-caked report. "Oh boy, what have you been doing? Preparing a picnic?"

"Something like that." Chuck just said and went back to his desk before she had the opportunity to embarrass him even more. Then, he suddenly remembered he still hadn't asked anyone about Marissa's birthday. He went back to Julia and popped his head around the corner. "You don't know when Marissa's birthday is, by any chance?"

She almost jumped out of her chair. "Do you have to scare me like that! And, no, I don't."

_Hmm, who else could he ask? Tellberg. He always had notes about everything. _Chuck quickly scanned the office. There he was, at his desk. He approached him. "Tellberg, do you know Marissa's birthday?"

"Who?" Then he seemed to get the picture. "Oh, Ms. Clark!" even before Chuck could explain. "I think I must have it written down somewhere." He started searching his desk. When he hadn't found what he obviously was looking for after five minutes, Chuck got a little impatient. "Tell me once you find it, will ya?"

Back at his desk he looked at the grease-stained calculations. There was no way they could be saved either. With a sigh of frustration he went to work again. Life just wasn't fair sometimes...

...----...----...--

Gary entered his hotel room and immediately dropped onto his couch. His face bore a weary look and his body felt accordingly worn out. He had just spent three hours in the El. First, his connecting train hadn't arrived for twenty minutes and then, on the last leg of his way home, there had been a power outage and they had been sitting ducks on the middle of the track. One and a half hours trapped inside an El coach was **not** his idea of fun! He closed his eyes. Just rest a few minutes, relish the quietness while it lasted.

Gary awoke with a start. The cat had jumped onto his belly. With a sleepy glance he looked at his watch. 1.30 p.m.! _Oh my God! _He must have dozed off. Had he missed anything? He quickly grabbed the paper to skip through it again. He had to know. Know if he had missed any opportunity of saving someone, anyone. He noticed immediately that the front headline had changed. This morning there had been something about the British Prime Minister's visit to the USA. And now it said >_14 PEOPLE KILLED AS BUS PLUNGES INTO CALUMET RIVER_ Below it was a picture of a bus wreckage with wounded people lying on emergency stretchers everywhere. He quickly scanned the article to find out what time it would happen. 16.47 p.m. it said. _Thank God! _He led out with a relieved sigh. He still had enough time to prevent it. But then he realized something else curious. The headline below it had also not been there before. That one said >_3 CUSTOMERS WOUNDED IN GROCERY STORE HOLD-UP_ Gary also quickly flew over the report.

>_Yesterday in the late afternoon, a 23-year-old man entered a grocery store on East Goethe Street, drew a gun and demanded to be handed all the money in the counter. When the owner of the store didn't co-operate, the man got nervous and took a hostage. When the police, who had been signaled by a witness from outside, arrived, the man overreacted and wildly fired shots at the by-standing customers. Three people, including the hostage, have been seriously wounded and were rushed to hospital after the police managed to capture the suspect._

Gary didn't need to know more. Another task he had to pursue. However, there wasn't a time given in that article. It just said "in the late afternoon". That wasn't much to work with, was it? And it was also at the other end of town, far away from the bus incident. But his priority was clear, the bus accident seemed more important. What were three wounded people to fourteen dead? He had made his decision, he was going for the bus accident, no question.

...----...----...--

Chuck looked up from his desk when he realized someone was standing behind him. Tellberg was standing there, holding a little notebook. "Fishman, I found it."

"Great. So, does it say anything about her birthday?"

"Yeah, it's right here. It's on 3rd May, that's tomorrow."

"I _knew _it!" Chuck slapped the edge of his desk, which set the piles of papers shaking dangerously. Tellberg looked at him uncomprehendingly. He shook his head.

"Thanks, Tellberg. You can't imagine how pleased I am."

"You're welcome, glad I could help. Anyone else's birthday you'd like to know?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Okay then," Tellberg replied and headed back for his own desk.

Considering his report, Chuck had just gotten away quite luckily. Julia Cook had really saved him big time. Apparently, Pritchard had been on a coffee break and Chuck had managed to get the retyped report onto his desk just before he came in again. _Phew, what a bit of luck! _he had mused. As for the Rottman Calculations, he had retyped them as well, which had cost him a precious half hour. But he had managed it all somehow. _I just hope Gary's having a better day. _Chuck looked at his watch. Only 10 minutes to go, then he could go home, leave these unfortunate events of the day behind. So, after all, it was Marissa's birthday tomorrow. Which meant, they didn't have much time to throw a little surprise party together. If only Gary had listened to him! He tried to phone him. Gary obviously wasn't in as he only got the answering machine at the other end. He quickly left a message for Gary that he was going to take care of arranging the party.

It was time to go, so Chuck grabbed his jacket, shut down his computer screen and went out of the office. He was curious about where Julia Cook would take him tonight. He was not sure if he was looking forward to the occasion. After all, she wasn't that unattractive and she seemed a nice person to hang around with. Chuck hadn't had much contact with her, except for the occasional chat in the office. Nothing special. Somehow, he had never seen her as someone to have any romantic interest in. Now, he was wondering why. So, he decided to take it easy and see how it would develop. They had agreed she would phone him at home and then tell him where they'd meet. So, Chuck still had some time left to buy the stuff for the party. He went over to the driver's side of his beloved sports car. He gently stroked the gleaming hood with one hand and disgustedly recognized the layer of gray dust that stuck to his palm. "Time to give my baby a thorough shower, eh?" _Was he going out of his mind? _He had just caught himself talking to his car. He shook his head and got into the car. He pulled out of the car park and steered into the direction of his favorite store.

Amazingly, there was an empty parking space right in front of it. He entered the small grocery store. "Hello, Jack," he greeted the owner who must be in his sixties, Chuck thought.

"Good day, Mr. Fishman," Jack replied. The store was quite small, though you could get about everything in there. Chuck really liked it, even if it was a little more expensive than the big stores. He never liked these huge warehouses, they always gave him a feeling of being lost. No, he much more preferred the familiarity of this little cozy shop. He steered the cart through the aisles and soon had it filled with all sorts of party articles...

...----...----...--

Gary was restless. He had left the hotel in time, or so he thought. This really wasn't his day today. He had gotten a taxi right away this time, however, it was rush hour in Chicago. He should have considered that. And now he was stuck in the middle of just another traffic jam. His cab was, so to say. Gary almost told the driver to hurry up a little. Maybe he didn't, because he knew the cab driver couldn't push all those cars away, either. So, he just handed the bloke his fare and exited the cab. It would be quicker for him to go on foot when traffic was like this. Sitting around in the cab would get him exactly nowhere, he decided. It wasn't much farther away, luckily. His watch showed 16.32 hrs. He fell into a light jog-trot. He had no idea how he would stop the bus from crashing, so he just had to make something up as the situation developed. He had done it before, so he was pretty confident he could make it this time, too...

...----...----...--

Chuck whistled a little tune as he approached the counter. In the back of his mind he was still debating whether he should get more of the salted peanuts. _He_ didn't like peanuts too much, but that didn't mean... His thoughts were violently interrupted by a young man who hit his cart as he hurried by. Chuck shouted, "Hey, you jerk!" but then he saw the guy pointing a gun at Jack, the owner. _Oh my God, what should he do?_ _Call the police. Difficult without a phone... Yell for help. Too risky, the guy might overreact... Fight the guy. Even riskier... Run away. And leave Jack on his own? _A thousand possibilities ran through Chuck's head. But all he could do was stand there and stare at the scene. He could hear the conversation.

"Now, Grandpa, if you don't hand me that money, you'll be in trouble!"

Jack looked shocked but determined. If only he would give the guy what he wanted, they'd all be safe. But instead Jack shook his head. The fellow looked nervous. Nervous as hell. Like he might pull the trigger any second. Chuck couldn't take it, "Jack, give him the damn money!"

The guy suddenly turned at Chuck's interjection and pointed the gun at him instead. "You," he waved the gun slightly at Chuck. "Come over here."

Chuck was almost too frightened to even take a step. _If only he had remained silent!_ He thought his knees would buckle every moment. But he did as he was told. The guy grabbed him and held the gun to his neck. He was rather small and slender but the fierce look in his eyes and the gun he was holding were enough to make him appear intimidating. Despite his fear Chuck managed to say, "Now, you don't wanna do something you'd later regret, do you?"

"Shut up!" the guy just barked. "Now, _Jack,_" he said with stressing the name of the shop-owner in a disgustingly smug way, "get that money over to me stat or this little pal will see the flowers from below."

Chuck managed to look around. As far as he could count there were four other people in the store. They, too, stared in shock at the scene that unraveled in front of their eyes. The guy had noticed the other customers, too. "And all of you, sit down in that corner!" He pointed the gun at a corner of the shop that he could easily target if push came to shove. Anxiously, the other customers obeyed the order. There wasn't much they could do, was there?

The guy handed Jack a plastic bag. "Put the money in there, Grandpa!"

And then they all heard it. Sirens. Police car sirens. The high-pitched sound penetrated the air as they were nearing.

"Oh shit!" The guy got even more nervous. "Now if you don't get on with it, Grandpa, then I'll blow you all to Kingdom Come!" He released the grip on Chuck and pushed him away from him, so that Chuck made an easy target. He fidgeted dangerously with the gun. Jack now tried to open the cash register which for some reason didn't open. The seconds were ticking by. They seemed like hours. To Chuck at least. After Jack frantically hit some keys on the cash register, it finally opened with a loud _Ping _that penetrated the otherwise frighteningly silent shop. But then there wasn't any more time. Two police cars had assembled in front of the store and a mechanical voice sounded. "You are surrounded. Leave through the door with your hands up."

_What a stupid phrase, _Chuck thought. This guy wasn't about to just leave this scene like that. _So, why did it always work in movies? _And Chuck had been bang on right. Sweat broke out on the guy's face. He was getting desperate, so much Chuck could tell. He pushed Jack and Chuck to the corner where all the other customers were gathered. "Sit down, you two!" he demanded in a brusque tone. Somehow, a policeman had made his way to the door of the shop. The guy had noticed him and shouted, "If you come one step closer, these people will pay the price!"

"All right, we just wanna talk to you."

"I don't need any of this fancy psychological-talking stuff, just go away and let me get outta here!"

"We'll see what we can arrange."

Suddenly there was the sound of falling cans at the back of the shop. A gun fired from behind Chuck and then all hell broke loose. The only thing Chuck could remember was looking at the guy's finger pulling the trigger of his gun and the last thought that went through his head was, _This is **not **how I planned to die! _And then all went pitch-black...

...----...----...--

Gary was panting violently. _Almost there. _He had just stepped onto the Torrence Avenue Bridge. In the paper it said the bus driver would overlook a dog that was wandering in the middle of the road, which would cause the bus to skid through the railing of the bridge and plunge down into the river, trying to avoid hitting the dog. All these events would eventually lead to the death of fourteen people. _Funny, how one decision, one reaction can so easily result in the death of so many people. _So, it didn't seem so difficult to Gary to prevent the accident. Just find the dog and stop him from going astray in the middle of the bridge. He was looking out for anything that looked remotely like a dog. He checked his watch again. 16.44. A car just pulled to the side of the road. _That must be it! _And yes, a dog was leaping from one of the opening doors. It looked like a German shepherd, just like Spike. Gary heard the voice of the apparent owner. "Kira! Kira, come here!" But Kira had something entirely different in mind. A woman emerged from the car and ran after the dog. Gary knew it was time to react. So, he also ran after Kira, who was running straight toward him. For a moment he felt a rush of adrenaline well through him. What if the dog intended to bite his arm or his leg or whatever else off? Not every dog was as friendly as Spike, this morning's encounter had proved that. But being a coward wouldn't help much now, would it? So, he took all his courage together and faced the Beast. He tried to get in the way of Kira and stop her running away. The woman still yelled "Kira!" repeatedly. Miraculously, Kira seemed to react just as Gary had planned. She approached him with an angry growl, however. _Uh oh! _shot through Gary's mind. She jumped at him, digging her teeth into his hand. Despite the pain that shot through his hand, he managed to grab the collar around Kira's neck and keep her in check. At least until the owner arrived, he hoped.

Then he saw the bus coming toward him and the dog. It didn't slow down a bit, and Gary was still standing in the middle of the road. He tried to drag Kira to the pavement. The dog, however, did not obey. Gary pulled at the collar with all his might. He managed to almost get her off the road. Almost. With a sickening thud the bus hit her left hip. The dog whined loudly and dropped onto the pavement beside Gary. Her back limbs seemed to lie at a strangely contorted angle. He felt a sick feeling creep up his stomach. The bus had come to a halt and the driver arrived at the scene just at the same time as the owner. The woman bent down to the dog and stroked her head carefully, whispering "Kira, what have they done to you?" Gary realized the dog was still alive. Maybe it wasn't too late for Kira. The bus driver was dead pale and Gary told him, "Go and call for help, will you?" He was so shaken that he didn't react at first. Gary nudged his shoulder. "Go get some help, did you understand!" The driver just nodded and went off back to the bus.

"We gotta do something!" the owner screamed at Gary. Gary tried to calm her. Except, he was far from calm himself.

"Listen, lady, help is on the way, all right?"

Then the owner saw Gary's bloody hand. "You... You're hurt. Are you all right?" Gary looked at his hand. The other events had totally suppressed his pain but now it came back with twice the strength. Looked like a flesh wound to him. He didn't hope he broke any bones. So, he just said, "Yeah, I'll live." _And so will Kira! _he silently added with a flicker of hope.

"You should get that checked out."

He couldn't believe the woman worried about his hand more than she worried about her dog. Then, Gary suddenly remembered the grocery store hold-up. It might not be too late if he got there immediately. He turned to the lady who had bent over her dog again. "Look, lady, I've got to go. I'm sorry for what happened to your dog."

She looked at him uncomprehendingly. "You probably saved her. How can I thank you for that?"

"Just make sure she gets well." Gary said in response and turned to go. From far he already heard police sirens. Help would be there soon. He heard the woman shout behind him, "Wait, mister!" but then he had already gotten into the cab he had just managed to stop. "East Goethe Street," he told the driver, and off they sped.

...----...----...--

It had been a busy day in the Cook County's ER today. They had seen almost everything today. From MIs to motor vehicle accidents to stabbings and God knows what else came through the doors of an emergency room in the middle of Chicago. Doug and Mark were just taking a few moments to get their minds off all the stress and intensity of the ER in the hospital's small basketball field.

"Come on, Doug, get it if you can!" shouted Mark, dribbling the basketball quickly past Doug. Doug was just starting a maneuver to attempt just that when Mark took the ball and made a leap for the basket. The ball shot right through it, which made the chains that functioned as the actual "basket" rattle. "What's wrong, Doug, you not up to my standards today?" Mark continued to tease him. "Try me!" Doug snarled in mock anger at his mate. He made another attempt at catching the ball from Mark's grasp and this time succeeded. He was just trying to get near the basket when they both heard a _Peep peep._ They both instinctively grabbed for their beepers. Mark exclaimed, "It's mine. Seems like there's more work ahead." He patted Doug on the shoulder and went back to the ER. "Wait, it's no fun playing alone." Doug shouted after him. They both went back and entered through the automatically opening ER doors that had opened so often to all sorts of misery today. And not only today.

Carol saw both of them enter. "Mark? A call just came in. Three GSWs on their way. ETA in 6 minutes." Mark's prompt reaction was, "Okay, folks, you know the drill." They all knew what they had to do. Everyone went his or her way like they had done so many times before. They prepared the one, the two and the four, setting up intubation trays, defibrillators, saline IVs, 0 neg blood and everything else that would be needed quickly to try to do the impossible. Everything was ready in just after four minutes. The nurses and doctors lined up near the main doors, waiting for the first ambulance. The tension rose from second to second. Would they get to see just more of the hopeless cases that had bullets embedded right in their hearts, brains or other vital organs and lacked every hope of ever waking up from unconsciousness again. Or would it be easy, just for once? Bullet in the arm or leg, nothing life-threatening. Whatever the doors might reveal, they would be prepared for the worst. They always had to be.

Then, the first ambulance arrived. Mark, Carol and a couple of other nurses sprang into action. On the stretcher lay a male with a GSW to the chest that had bled profoundly onto his clothes and the emergency stretcher. He had been intubated already and was being bagged by one of the EMTs. The other EMT quickly filled Mark in on the victim.

Once inside the destined room, the show could begin. "One, two, three." Mark exclaimed and they carefully moved the patient from the emergency stretcher to the ER gurney. A nurse exposed the presumed entry wound by scissoring away the clothes. Another nurse took over the ambu bag and continued pressing air into the patient's lungs in regular intervals. Carol set up a large-bore IV for the 0 neg. Mark had quickly assessed the situation. "ABG, Chem 7, cbc and Crit. A Chest, too. We need six units O neg." He studied the readouts of the heart monitor. It didn't look too good. "And get Carter down here, stat!" One nurse went to the phone, another did the ordered tests. They all functioned like a perfect unit. Sometimes even without words being uttered. At moments like this Mark, the ER Attending, was very proud of his "crew". But this time he didn't have the time for that. He once more had a life to save. A life that was held only by silk strings that might be severed at the slightest mistake. And he vowed not to make any.

"Flatline," Carol stated. Mark reacted promptly. ".9 milligrams epi, IV push." Carol handed Mark the paddles of the defibrillator. He applied them to the man's chest, to the left and right of the heart. "Clear," Carol said when she was assured no one was near the patient. The patient yanked upward when the electric shock of 200 Joules hit him. The monitor still showed flatline. "300 Joules," Mark said, but Carol had already adjusted the right number. Mark sparked him again. Nothing.

At that moment John Carter entered the scene. He looked quite young, almost too young to be taken as a fully qualified doctor with a specialty in emergency medicine and surgery. "What have we got?"

Carol filled him in with all the necessary information. Carter took over the paddles. 350 Joules shot through the patient's body. Finally, the monitor showed something. "V-tach," Carter said. "I'll shock him again." Once more, the patients body erupted. Then there was a stable heart-beat. For the moment. Everyone seemed to release his breath as the tension relieved a little. The chest x-rays could be taken now to assess the damage that the bullet had caused inside the patient's chest. Mark had called Carter as he hoped this one would make it through to surgery. For the moment it looked very much like it. The silk strings still held. But for how long?

The x-rays had come back and they had located the bullet near the heart. It apparently had not penetrated right into the heart but close to it. Very close. "Okay, get him up to the OR!" Mark ordered. Carter took off with a hand-full of nurses around the gurney. Mark breathed a sigh of relief. Another close call he had managed to pull back from the dead... He could see Kerry Weaver hovering over another patient next door. Maybe she could use some help. Mark ripped off his blood smeared yellow apron and his latex gloves, immediately putting on new ones, while he went through the connecting doors into the neighboring room...

...----...----...--

On the ride to his destination, Gary reflected on the day that had started so promisingly. By now, he had saved two dogs from their deaths, or so he hoped, and had been bitten twice by those same dogs. _What an irony, _came to his mind. He carefully scrutinized his wound. He tried to move his fingers. They all worked, though not without a certain amount of pain that came with the movement. Yeah, he really should get it checked out. But not before he had made sure if he couldn't do anything concerning the hold-up. He saw the blue and red blinking police and ambulance lights from far away already. _Oh no, I'm too late! _The cab stopped and the driver said, "Sorry, pal, this is as far as I can take you, looks like the road's been blocked." Gary was yanked back to reality. "Yeah, all right," and he handed the driver his fare.

Gary ran to the site of the action. One of the ambulance vans just sped off with howling sirens. There was a barrier round the site and policemen crowded the scene. Then, out of the corner of his eye Gary recognized a red car that looked vaguely familiar. _Chuck's car? _He checked the license plate. This was Chuck's car all right. _What was he doing here? He hadn't... No! This couldn't be happening! _He quickly surveyed the area to see if he could spot Chuck anywhere. He begged his fears wouldn't be true. He went over to one of the policemen. "Excuse me."

The policeman turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Where are these victims being taken?"

"To Cook County General."

"Thanks." _Oh my God! _He had to know. He frantically searched for a phone box.

The man who answered the phone in the hospital seemed everything but friendly. "Cook County General."

"Yes, I'm looking for someone who has just been admitted to you. His name is Charles Fishman, he probably came in with a gunshot wound."

"What do you mean, _probably?_"

Gary neither had the time nor the patience to fuss about trivialities now.

"Look, could you please just check if someone under that name has been admitted recently?" He heard the receiver being briskly put onto something hard. In the background he could hear muffled voices, shreds of sentences. "Lydia, Code Brown in two!" "Mark, where's the..." "...the Chem 7 came back..." Then the unfriendly voice was back. "Hello?"

"Yeah."

"I can't find anyone under this name. There were a couple of gunshot wounds admitted today who haven't all been identified, so if you wanna make sure, come in personally." With these words he slapped the receiver onto its hook. Puzzled, Gary listened to the monotonous _Tooooh_ of the disconnected line for a few seconds. Should he phone Marissa? But then he didn't know if anything had happened to Chuck. He didn't wanna trouble Marissa with any sorrow if there wasn't anything to worry about. Maybe Chuck had just parked his car there and had gone somewhere else entirely. There was only one way to find out. Go to the hospital and prepare for the worst. He would also be hitting two birds with one stone, considering he still had to get someone to look at his hand. So, he decided to only phone Marissa if necessary after his visit to the hospital.

Gary entered the Cook County's emergency room and went straight for the admittance desk. A bulky figure with short hair and a trace of a beard hovered behind it, munching away on what looked like a hamburger. _That must be the unfriendly guy I talked to, _was Gary's first thought. He addressed the big guy, "Excuse, excuse me, I phoned in earlier, asking for a patient named Charles Fishman."

The clerk looked annoyed by the intrusion. "Charles Fishman, huh?" For a moment he seemed to consider if he should ignore the request or not. Then he said, "I'll have a look again." He romped through some of the charts that were held in some sort of metal rack on the edge of the desk. Behind him, the ER seemed to bustle like a bee hive. Nurses and doctors went to and fro, picking up some paper, a chart or drugs. One with graying short hair in a blue OR shirt was talking to someone on the phone. A nurse had referred to him as 'Doctor Ross'. Gary hesitated a moment. _Hadn't he seen this guy somewhere before?_ He couldn't recall it, but then he encountered so many people every day, it was virtually impossible to recall every single one of them. The clerk came back. "Sorry, but I can't find anyone with that name."

"If he had a gunshot wound where would he be now?"

"He'd probably been taken to the OR. We had three gunshot wounds today, two of them unidentified. Maybe try the surgery department, 4th floor."

"Yeah. Thanks." Gary's tension rose to an almost unbearable amount.

"Hey, your hand's bleeding, mister."

Gary had almost forgotten about it again. "I'll come back later."

Jerry, the clerk, just shook his head. _People! _All sorts of weird people came to the ER. But then he imagined how he would react if one of his friends or family was injured. He'd probably behave similarly...

The surgery department... If it was Chuck and he was in surgery, then at least it meant he wasn't dead. Gary made his way up the stairs, taking two at a time. There it was, 4th floor, surgery. Again, he went up to the desk there and inquired about a Charles Fishman, possible gunshot wound. The nurse there seemed quite friendly, for a change. She told him that one of the GSWs was still in surgery. The other two apparently had made it. The identified one was not named Fishman, the other one was a woman. So, the nurse couldn't tell Gary if it was Chuck on the operating table or not. However, after the description Gary had given her, she said it could very well be the one he was looking for. _Oh no! It was really Chuck!_

"Are you a family-member?"

Gary almost said no, but then he remembered that he possibly wouldn't be allowed to stay if he said he wasn't. So, he lied, "Yes."

"Okay, why don't you sit down and I see what I can do for you."

Gary sat down on one of the plastic chairs in the quiet hallway. Finally, he had some time to think. _What did the paper say? _He took it out of his jacket. In the process, he glimpsed at his hand again. The blood had already clotted and the wound wasn't even bleeding anymore. Gary looked for the article. It hadn't changed. No word about the identity of any of the victims. However, the bus accident headline had been replaced by an article about a dog being hit by a bus. He quickly read it to see if Kira had made it. And she had, at least that was what the article said.

Gary buried his head in his hands. _Why? Why did it have to be Chuck? Why hadn't he, Gary Hobson, been there? The paper had given him the opportunity to rescue his best friend, but yet, he hadn't. Would he have if he had known Chuck was one of the injured victims? To trade the life of your best friend for the lives of fourteen people you don't know, would that have been the right decision to make?_

The nurse came back. "We still haven't got a positive ID but after the description we're 90 sure the man is Mr. Fishman."

All blood drained from Gary's face. "And how is he?"

"I don't know any details but he's critical."

Gary got up, paced the hallway, sat down again. _This was all his fault. Was it?_ The nurse came back to him. "Sir, I suggest you get some rest. This is not gonna do you or your relative any good." Then she too noticed Gary's hand. "Let me have a look at that." Gary held out his hand. "I suggest you go down to the ER and let someone have a look at it. I promise I'll call you if there's anything new on Mr. Fishman. Can you tell me your name?"

"Gary, Gary Hobson."

Gary couldn't think straight. All the thoughts rummaged through his brain in one big blur. But what the nurse was saying did make sense. Blindly, he made his way down to the ER again.

They had done an x-ray of his hand, and a young female doctor with dark brown hair who had introduced herself as Dr. Doyle had treated his hand. First, she had given him a shot of tetanus. Then, she had treated the wound with an antibiotic ointment of some sort that had burned like hell, sutured his hand and finally a nurse had applied a bandage to his hand. No broken bones, luckily. Gary had been officially discharged, then. _Marissa! He still hadn't called Marissa! _He found a pay-phone in the waiting area. Now he prayed she would be home.

"Marissa Clark," a familiar voice at the other end of the line said.

"Marissa? It's me, Gary."

"Gary. Is anything wrong?" This woman was amazing. No one else would have noticed that something was very wrong just from the few words he'd uttered.

Gary didn't know how to tell her. "Yeah, it's... There was..." he stuttered.

"Gary, go easy, what is it?" she asked worriedly.

"Marissa, it's Chuck. He's in hospital. He's been shot," Gary blurted out finally.

There was silence at Marissa's end. Only for a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity to Gary. "Where are you now?"

"Cook County General."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Then she hung up.

Gary idly held the receiver in his hand, unable to replace it on the hook. Unable to focus, unable to think of anything else than the image of Chuck being shot and him not being there. Then, he slowly began to get back to reality. He quickly replaced the receiver, but in his confusion didn't realize he had take out the spare change. He made his way up to surgery again, to wait for Marissa.

Back up in the surgery department, Gary didn't find anyone. No one manned the nurses' desk, so he just sat down again. The plastic chair he had chosen squeaked when he sat down. However, Gary didn't even notice it. With his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, he felt miserable. More miserable than he could remember ever feeling before. He had this tool, a tool no one else had. A very powerful tool, made of paper and black print. And yet, what was he doing? What had he been doing. Letting down his best buddy. Letting him die. Or almost die, he didn't know. All he could think about was his failure. His failure in grasping the wrong opportunity, making the wrong decision. The _wrong _decision? He had saved fourteen people. But not Chuck. Not **Chuck! **Chuck had paid the price for the fourteen lives he'd saved on that bridge. Fifteen lives, including the dog. Had that been worth it? This wasn't right! He shouldn't even be questioning himself. But yet, he _was... _What were fourteen lives compared to one? What...

Then he heard the sound of shoes tapping on the floor. It was the nurse he had talked to. Gary abruptly jumped to his feet. "How is he?"

"I don't know, Mr. ..." she paused, obviously trying to remember Gary's name.

"Hobson." Gary added quickly.

"Mr. Hobson, I can't tell you anything at this point. If you could please sit down and wait." She made a stressed impression to Gary, and obviously she _was _stressed.

Gary could make out the OR-doors through the glass windows of the connecting door. He stared at them with a blank expression, as though to convince them to open and show him that the gunshot victim was not Chuck. He prayed it wasn't him. For all he knew, Chuck could be at McGinty's now, eagerly waiting for him. There was still a small chance it wasn't Chuck. There had to be.

Gary heard footsteps again. Not the hurried ones of the nurses running around frequently. More reserved ones, though not without urgency. He turned, to face a black woman, being led by a dog. _Marissa. _One half of him screamed to be left alone now. And still, the other half screamed for someone to share his misery with. Someone he could take some comfort from. He went up to her. With a barely perceptible whisper he managed to get out her name.

"Gary, how is he?" She came to the point immediately.

"I don't know. No one tells me anything."

"Gary, how did this happen?" Gary led her to the chairs and they sat down.

"I don't know either. All I know is that there was a hold-up. Chuck must have been caught up in it somehow. Hell, Marissa, I'm not even sure it is him."

"What do you mean, you're not sure it is Chuck?"

Gary suddenly yelled at Marissa, "**That's what I mean, I can't say if it is Chuck, lying in there on the operating table!**" Gary had jumped up from his chair again.

There was silence for a moment. Gary nervously ran his fingers through his hair. "Look, Marissa, I'm sorry. I..." He sat down again. He felt a warm reassuring hand on his shoulder. A hand that seemed to say _It's all right. Calm down and start from the beginning. _A hand that said more than words, though a hand he could feel trembling with fright. _Come on, Gary, get yourself together, Marissa has a right to know. _It still took him a minute to compose himself before he could tell her the story. Marissa just sat there and listened. Despite her skin being dark, her face looked pale. He had never seen her this terrified.

Gary noticed a movement at the other end of the hallway. They were wheeling out a bed, doctors and nurses clustered around it. Gary sprang up from his chair, hurrying toward the action. Marissa followed at a safe distance. Gary went to the side of the bed, just to glance into his best friend's face. It was indeed Chuck. _Oh my goodness! _was the first thing that went to his mind. Chuck looked horrible. He had tubes stuck into him, into his mouth, his arms, his chest. One of the nurses dragged him aside. "Mister, you can't get in the way." Gary was too stunned to speak. Finally, he managed to get out, "How is he?"

One of the doctors, a heavyset small man in green surgical scrubs took Gary by the arm, while the nurses headed off with Chuck.

"Are you family?" the doctor inquired. Gary just blindly nodded.

"He is in a stable condition for the moment. A bullet penetrated his chest and he had to be resuscitated. We managed to stabilize him now."

Gary felt a rush of relief wash over him. Though, when he looked at the doctor again, he had the nagging feeling that there was more. The doctor continued. "He is in a coma due to critical blood loss from a gunshot wound he received to the chest."

_A coma. _The words sounded empty to Gary. "How bad is it?"

"We can't say, he could come to every minute. There is also the possibility he never will."

_Never. _How could this man even utter the word? This was impossible. Gary felt his surroundings starting to spin around him. "Can I see him?"

"Not at the moment. Maybe you could come back tomorrow."

But Gary didn't grasp the full meaning of these words. He felt yet another hand on his arm. Marissa's hand. She led him back to where the chairs lined the wall and made him sit down. For a long time none of them spoke.

Marissa and Gary had sat in the hospital hallway for half an hour without saying a word. Every now and then a nurse would hurry by, making squeaking sounds on the PVC floor with her shoes. However, Gary and Marissa didn't even notice that. Gary was the first to break the nerve wracking silence.

"Marissa?"

"Yeah."

"This is all my fault."

She kept silent. In any other situation, she would have told him that wasn't true. That he couldn't be at two places at the same time, that he was just one mortal man who couldn't expect to be playing God all the time. But not now. For the first time she doubted Gary. Doubted him for the decision he had made. But was it fair to do that? Had it been Gary's decision to make? Gary didn't know Chuck was one of the victims, the paper had withheld that information from him. The damn paper! It didn't matter. Chuck was on the verge of dying and Gary hadn't prevented that, the _paper_ hadn't prevented that. Why hadn't Gary tried to ask for help if he knew he couldn't be at two places at a time? She felt bitterness. A bitterness that wanted her to scream at Gary. A bitterness that restrained her from comforting him, even if she knew he had to feel the same pain as she. No, she couldn't bear sitting in this hospital any longer. The scent of disinfectant that mingled with sweat and plastic pushed like a 16 ton weight on her shoulders. She stood up and left Gary on his own. She knew she shouldn't just walk out like this, she shouldn't leave Gary all alone now. But she just couldn't stand it any longer.

"Gary, I'll go now," she just said.

Gary just uttered a barely perceptible "Yeah." that sounded from far far away inside his body. She took Spike by the lead and headed for the elevator.

...----...----...--

Marissa fumbled with her key. Her hands were shaking so much that she had difficulties getting the key into the keyhole. She had walked all the way from the hospital, as she had hoped the fresh air would clear her head a little. But it had only worsened her fear, her bitterness, her sadness. Finally, she got into her apartment. Automatically, she freed Spike from his gear and sat down at her table. And then all the emotions came crashing down on her. All the emotions that had dammed up since the phone-call she had received from Gary. They all had assembled like an air-filled tire that was about to burst. And now someone was releasing the pressure through the valve. The tears came first. Hot salty tears that ran down her cheeks uncontrollably. Sobbing followed and soon her shoulders were shaking.

Spike sensed that something was wrong with her and he carefully touched her had with his wet nose. When she didn't respond, he softly licked her hand. Absently, Marissa stroked his head. She turned to him and embraced his soft furry body. At least she had someone to hold on to, even if it was "only" a dog. The sobbing slowly receded and after a while she went to the bathroom to rid herself of the sticky feeling the dried tears had left on her skin. Ironically, she thought about what a good thing it was she didn't have to look into a stricken face with swollen red eyes now. There had been a time when she had cried herself to sleep every night. A time when she had been sure she couldn't face life any longer. Being blind in a world of seeing people was never easy and there had been a point in her life where she had felt she couldn't cope with that anymore. That had been a long time ago but now these old feelings welled up again. Feelings of desperateness and sorrow. _Why did life have to be so unfair?_

And now Chuck. Charles Fishman, one of her friends. One of her best friends. She thought about how they had come to know each other. That was back at the office where she worked as a receptionist and Chuck as a broker. And Gary, of course. When Gary _had _worked there. At first, Chuck had only been a casual acquaintance, a colleague you said 'Hi' to, not more. But through Gary she had come to know Chuck better. And she had learned to like him, his humor, his flaws, his goddamned smugness. Sometimes he could be a darn nuisance but he definitely had his moments. And no matter how annoying he might be sometimes, he was there when you really needed him. No, Marissa couldn't imagine a life without Chuck anymore.

She sprinkled ice-cold water onto her face and neck. Feeling a little better, she decided to occupy her mind with work. Work that helped her taking her mind off things. There was a lot of work waiting for her in her apartment, she just had to find it.

It was three minutes after midnight. Marissa awoke from a troubled sleep. She had eventually drifted off into a light and wary doze. But now she felt she couldn't go to sleep again. She lay in her bed, tossing and turning. Her common sense was returning slowly. How could she have left Gary on his own, back there at the hospital? She felt sorry for him now. Guilty for walking out on a friend. A friend who needed comfort, who had no one to talk to. If he ever needed a friend it would be now. And she had refused to be his friend at a difficult time like this. She quickly got up and reached for her phone. She dialed his number. But all she got was his answering machine.

"Gary, if you're there, pick up the phone."

Nothing.

"Gary, please, I have to talk to you."

Still nothing. She hung up. Quickly throwing on some clothes, she left her apartment and headed for the Blackstone hotel.

_Please let him be home! _she prayed. She knocked on his door but there was only silence greeting her. She tried again. And again. No avail, if he was home he was ignoring it. But this didn't seem like Gary, she was convinced he wasn't home. A nagging feeling told her to go back to the hospital.

There it was, the Cook County. She could feel it looming in front of her, it still seemed very busy, despite the late hour. Marissa entered the building and immediately recognized the odd stench of chemicals and human sweat. She bravely ignored it as best as she could and tried to remember where to go. Eventually, she found the way to the ICU. Although she couldn't see Gary, she could feel his presence. She sensed him, sitting forlorn on one of the plastic chairs where she had left him. She smoothly sat down next to him. He didn't move.

He didn't move because he had drifted off into a doze, his head leaning back against the wall. Marissa carefully touched his arm. "Gary? Gary, wake up," she said softly. He slowly came to, blinking in confusion.

"Marissa?" For a moment he didn't recall where he was. But then it all came back to him in a flash of painful realization. "Did anything happen?" he asked anxiously.

"No, not that I know of. Gary, it's 1 o'clock in the morning. You can't spend the night here. You can't do anything here, why don't we go to your place?"

He opened his mouth to protest but then he thought the better of it. Maybe she was right. He didn't care. He didn't care what was happening to him at the moment. So, he just let her guide him down the hallway out of the hospital, back to the Blackstone.

They went into his room and Marissa more or less placed Gary on his couch. He seemed lost, like he didn't have any life left in him. Like a piece of him had died with the terrible incident that day. Marissa decided to get the two of them a cup of coffee.

She had to make them talk about it, had to make Gary get out of the state he was in now. The fact that he hadn't uttered a word since they had left the hospital didn't help much. He had wanted to talk about it that afternoon. But she, Marissa herself, had refused to, back then. And now she regretted it. Deeply.

She poured the freshly made coffee into two mugs and went over to the couch. She handed him the mug with a "Gary, have a cup of coffee." He absently took it and sipped at it. She carefully tried to start the conversation.

"Gary, it is not your fault. Whatever decision you made, you can't throw away your life by blaming yourself for what happened today."

She waited for a reaction. Instead, she just heard him sipping his coffee. But she wasn't ready to give up.

"Look, you might regret the decision you made now. But back then, back when you had to make it, you didn't know it was gonna be Chuck, did you? And if you had, would you have decided to let the fourteen people die in the bus accident?"

"No, dammit, I didn't know it was Chuck!" Gary forcefully told her. "No, I didn't know," he repeated more softly.

"Would you have let these fourteen people die, Gary? Even if you knew?"

"I don't know. That's what I'm asking myself all the time." He put down the mug so forcefully that it made a loud _clank_ on the table. "And what do I tell him. What do I tell Chuck when he... _if _he ever wakes up again?"

"He'll understand. I'm sure he will," Marissa tried to convince Gary. Chuck might have seemed somewhat opposed to Gary's decisions concerning the paper in the past, but when it came down to life threatening situations, he had always backed Gary up. And he would this time. She hoped. "But you can't turn back time, for all it's worth. You made a decision and now you have to live by it. It doesn't do you any good contemplating what might have been. That's not going to help Chuck and me, and especially you. If you question your decision for the rest of the time, it'll haunt you, destroy you. Gary, you have to accept what you did."

"Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah, I guess I'll have to. But I'm not sure I can."

"You will," Marissa said with conviction. "Sooner or later I'm sure you will. But now we both have to rest. Get some sleep. Promise me you'll get some, all right?"

As Gary kept silent, Marissa got even more worried. "Gary, why don't you let me stay with you tonight? You could really need the company after all that happened."

Gary didn't feel like having Marissa's motherly presence around him tonight. He knew she was worried but he just wasn't up to having anyone around now. "No," he quietly said. "I, I just wanna be alone, okay?"

Marissa understood. She was worried about her friend but she understood. She wanted to squeeze his hand in reassurement but her fingertips detected something other than the expected feeling of skin. It was something with a more textured feeling. _A bandage?_ She felt Gary wince slightly as she touched it and quickly withdrew her hand. Her brow furrowed in concern?

"Gary, did you hurt your hand?"

She heard him shifting his position slightly. "Yeah, I- It's nothing. A dog bit me and I had it sutured in the hospital."

"Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," he quietly said.

Marissa then turned to go when she heard Gary call her.

"Marissa?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

For a moment she considered replying but then she just left it hanging in the air like that and went out the door.

...----...----...-- >> Gary was running. As fast as he could. Not fast enough. _Have to be there! Can't get there in time. _Then suddenly there was Chuck in front of him. He seemed translucent, like a ghost. The ghost spoke to him, "Gary. Congratulations. You did it. You let down your best friend. Let him die just like that when you could have saved him. Well, thank you very much."

>> Gary was running. As fast as he could. Not fast enough. Then suddenly there was Chuck in front of him. He seemed translucent, like a ghost. The ghost spoke to him, "Gary. Congratulations. You did it. You let down your best friend. Let him die just like that when you could have saved him. Well, thank you very much." 

Gary wanted to explain himself. "No, it wasn't like that. I was..." But the ghost just shook his head and - _snip _- it disappeared just as quickly as it had turned up. Then there was Marissa. Her voice seemed to come from everywhere at the same time. "How could you! Gary, how could you?" She stood there, accusing him silently. Suddenly, thunder roared high above him, under him, next to him. A deep rumbling sound ringing in his ears. A familiar sound, a ... Gary opened his eyes. _What - where was he?_ Slowly, he realized he was lying in his bed. And the cat had rolled up next to his head, purring right into his ear. He stroked its head softly. The digital clock at his bedside said 4.22. "What are you doing here?" he spoke to the cat. But the cat just stretched one of its paws and continued to sleep on one of his pillows. For half an hour Gary lay there in a half awake state, not being able to fall back asleep. He got up and quietly sneaked into the kitchen corner, getting himself a glass of water. The images of the dream still haunted him.

He went over to the window and settled down on the window sill, pulling his knees up to his chin. Gary had a look over the city from his window. Dawn was breaking. A few people were up and running, despite the early hour. No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts all ended up at one point: He had failed to rescue Chuck. Chuck, who was fighting for his life now. Chuck, a fighter? He had to be. He had to hang in there. He _had _to.

Gary couldn't imagine a life without Chuck, no matter how annoying he might appear sometimes. _Funny, how you don't appreciate something until it's gone..._

Gary suddenly heard a key turning in his lock. It could only be Marissa, she was the only one who had a second key. _What was she doing here, so early in the morning? _She silently entered the room.

"Gary?" Marissa turned in his direction. How could she know he was sitting there if she couldn't see him?

"Yeah," Gary answered softly.

"What's wrong?"

"I awoke and I couldn't go back to sleep. I... I had this dream and it got me thinking."

"You wanna talk about it? About your dream?"

Gary was silent for a moment, as if considering the matter. But then he said, "No, not really."

"That's okay."

Gary had expected her to sound disappointed. If she was, she didn't let it show. There was silence again. Marissa went over to Gary at the window. "Would you mind opening the window?"

"What? Er, no." He opened the window a bit.

"I meant, open it wide."

Gary looked confused. "Are you hot?"

"No. No, it's just that sometimes I sit at the open window, taking in all the sounds and smells outside. It's my way of looking out of a window, you know."

Gary opened the window wide. Marissa leaned forward a bit and took a deep breath. "Did you know that the city sounds different at different times of day?"

"No, suppose I never paid much attention to that," Gary ruefully admitted.

"Close your eyes."

"What?" Gary asked, surprised.

"Close your eyes!" Marissa repeated.

"Closed them."

"And now listen. What do you hear?"

"Nothin'."

"Oh, come on Gary! Listen!"

"There's noth-"

"Shhh!"

For a moment none of them uttered a word, both of them listening "out of the window". Then, Gary spoke. "There's cars in the distance. Very faint. Wait, there's something else. A rattling sound."

"That's the El," Marissa explained.

"I can hear birds, too. And voices. Very low, but I can hear them."

"Good, that's a start."

They both listened again for a while. Now it was Marissa's turn "Those voices, they're angry. They're quarrelling."

"You can hear that?" Gary asked, amazed.

"After a while, you get a knack for detecting these things," she just said.

"Yeah, suppose so. Hey, you want some coffee?"

"That'd be nice."

So, Gary prepared some coffee and soon they both sat on the window sill, sipping their coffee. Gary's thoughts drifted again. Half to himself he muttered, "I'd miss him." Marissa turned to face him. "Me, too."

Gary looked at her with a surprised expression. _Had he really spoken out loud?_

"Gary, did Chuck ever tell you about his parents?"

"Not recently. But, you know, we've known each other for some time. Chuck doesn't get along with his family very well. There was something, some incident, I, I don't know exactly. It was a few years back. As far as I know, Chuck hasn't spoken to his parents since. His parents moved away from Chicago some years ago."

"Do you know where they live?"

"No, I don't know. I remember Chuck mentioning Vancouver once or twice."

"Do you think they've been notified?"

"I dunno."

"But they have a right to know, haven't they? What about sisters and brothers?"

"He's got a younger brother, that's all I know."

Chuck had never talked to Marissa much about his personal life. Gary and Chuck had been buddies since college at least, so Gary must have a little more insight. But apparently his family wasn't something Chuck was very proud of, so it was understandable that he didn't feel comfortable talking about it. Marissa felt that she and Gary had become some sort of family for Chuck. No, not only for Chuck, for themselves as well.

"Gary, I think breakfast would be a good idea now," Marissa suddenly proposed. It was no use drowning in grief and depression. They had to be strong now, optimistic.

"Yeah, okay."

So, they made their way out of Gary's room, trying to find something that was open so early, serving breakfast at this ungodly hour.

"Gary, shouldn't you go get the paper?" Marissa carefully probed. It was almost a quarter to seven and Gary and Marissa were still sitting in the small coffee shop they had finally found.

"No," he said, determined. "I don't wanna do it anymore, don't you see?" There was a hint of sadness and also hatred in his voice. "After what it's just done to me, to Chuck! No, no way I'm going back."

"Gary, the paper hasn't _done _anything to you. Are you sure about this?" Marissa remembered the times Gary had tried abandoning the paper. And every time the paper had followed him one way or another, had needed him to be somewhere. And he had regretted it almost every time.

"Yeah, damn sure."

"Okay, if that's your decision..."

"That's my decision, yes. Come on, let's go see Chuck."

When Gary and Marissa stood outside Chuck's hospital room in the ICU, they could see an elderly woman through the window in the door, sitting at his bedside. Gary hesitated in front of the door.

"What's wrong?" Marissa sounded worried.

"There's someone with him."

"Do you know who?"

"No. It's a woman. You think it could be his mother?"

"You tell _me_. Come on, let's wait outside. We should give them some privacy."

So, Gary and Marissa settled on the same plastic chairs they had already occupied the day before.

After a while, the woman exited Chuck's room. Her brownish hair was already graying and was bundled in a ponytail at the back of her head. She had a rather wiry frame and a slim figure. Gary spoke to her as she passed him. "Excuse me, are you Mrs. Fishman?"

She looked startled. "Yes, I am. And who are you if I may ask?"

"We're friends of Chuck's." Gary gestured her to sit down. Gary then held out his hand. "Gary Hobson."

Marissa did likewise. "Marissa Clark."

Mrs. Fishman shook both their hands, one at a time. "Gary? I think I remember you. Are you the same Gary who went to school with him?"

"Yeah, that's me."

The situation felt a little awkward, no one knew what to say. Then, Mrs. Fishman spoke, "I haven't seen him for some time." She gestured in the direction of the hospital room door Chuck was behind. ""We've grown apart since... ever since..." She suddenly stopped. "We haven't talked to each other in a long time. I guess we're both too stubborn." She paused for a moment. "And now I might never have the opportunity to speak with him again."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the three of them. Each was thinking the same thing but no one dared speak about it. Mrs. Fishman stood up. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

She slowly walked down the hallway, her back slightly arched as if she had been carrying a heavy burden for too long. Gary took Marissa by the arm to signal her it was time to pay their first visit to Chuck.

Gary pulled up a second chair to Chuck's bedside. It was quite difficult to find a place between all the beeping and blinking instruments that surrounded him. Gary was frightened by the realization that all the instruments probably functioned to keep Chuck alive in the first place. Marissa touched Gary's arm and whispered, "Gary, tell me what he looks like."

"Are you sure you wanna hear that?"

"Yes. Yes, I am," she said with determination.

Gary studied Chuck. He didn't even know where to start describing. He told her about the wires and tubes that seemed to lead into every part of his body, about the respirator that had taken over Chuck's breathing, about the IVs that led into his arms, about the electrodes that were attached to the parts of his breast that weren't covered in a big white plaster-like bandage and that reflected every one of his heart-beats on one of the monitors next to his bed. When it came to his face, it looked almost peaceful. Except for the intubation tube that led into his mouth, Chuck looked nearly like his usual self.

Marissa listened intently. After what Gary had described to her, it was nearly as bad as she had expected. She could hear the sound of the respirator, pumping oxygen into Chuck's lungs regularly. She could also hear the occasional bleeping of the medical instruments. And it was all that technology that was keeping him alive? It was near to impossible to grasp.

Suddenly, a nurse entered. She looked at the two visitors and nodded a friendly "Good morning". She checked one of Chuck's IVs and injected something from a syringe into his arm. Gary felt a little stupid, asking, "Can we... I mean... are we allowed to touch him?"

"Oh yeah, he's all yours. Just make sure he doesn't go off dancing around too much," she replied cheerily.

Gary tried to produce a smile in response. However, it looked more like a mere lifting of the corners of his mouth. The rest of his face bore a painful expression. The nurse wrote down something in Chuck's chart and exited the room. Gary hesitated a moment before he softly took Chuck's hand. He was feeling a bit awkward but something told him to make physical contact with his best friend. Something to tell him that he was still alive other than the readouts on some machine. He spoke to Chuck, "Chuck, we're here. It's Marissa and me. I... I don't know if you're hearing any of this but, hey, come back to us soon, buddy. I'll even let you have a look at the sports page." His attempt at humor didn't mask his desperation as well as he hoped it would. He felt a lump in his throat.

Then Marissa added, "Hey, Chuck, I've never been very good at putting my feelings into words and I'm still not good at it even now. But hear this, there aren't many people I'd call friends. Good friends. But you're one of them. One of those few people who can look past my inability to see and treat me as an equal and not just someone who's blind and helpless. You've become special to me. And I'd like to keep it that way."

Gary was moved by her little speech. He had never really seen her so seriously worried, so desperate. She always had been the optimistic, strong center of their friendship. And now that seemed to crumble...

A young doctor in a white coat entered the room. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave now," he said, looking at Chuck's chart at the bottom of the bed. Gary and Marissa stood up and did as they were told. Gary took the doctor to the side. "Dr. ..." he looked at the name tag, "...Carter, can I have a word with you for a moment?"

"Yes, sure."

They went outside and sat down on a row of chairs and introduced themselves. Gary then inquired, "How is he?"

"At this point, we can't say for sure. Dr. Anspaugh's operation went very well, under the circumstances. We managed to repair most of the damage the bullet had caused. Though, the blood loss was the critical factor. That's why he is in a coma now."

Gary interrupted, "And how long will he stay like this?"

"We can't say, either. I'm afraid, that's a little up to Mr. Fishman himself. We've still got him on the respiratory ventilator. The way things look, we'll be taking him off the ventilator tomorrow. Then we'll see what happens. But I have to say, it all looks positive to me." Carter gave Gary and Marissa a reassuring smile. He always liked to spread hope. But not false hope. He strongly believed in honesty, to the patients and to their relatives. And he was convinced Mr. Fishman was a winner. Someone who would be strong enough to fight his way back to consciousness. And usually, Carter could trust his first impressions.

Marissa and Gary had gone down to the hospital cafeteria. They both sipped a cup of hot, though quite bad coffee. Gary made a mental note not to order coffee a second time, should he ever come here again. Doctors and nurses clustered around them, adding a colorful picture to the scene. It was a mixture of green, blue and pink scrubs, dotted by the occasional white doctor's coat. Gary could hear the conversation one doctor had with another at the table next to him. "I am telling you, Peter, the PVCs and the electrolytes clearly suggested hyperaldosteronism." The other doctor countered, "No no no, it was a normal cardiac rhythm with a block. There was -" Gary cut the eavesdropping. He wasn't able to grasp what the talk was about, anyway.

Marissa rubbed her eyes with her fingertips, as if nursing a headache. Gary worriedly inquired, "You all right?"

She lifted her head, "Yeah." She sighed, "What a lovely birthday. It's got everything I was hoping for."

"It's your birthday _today?_" Gary suddenly was alert. _It was Marissa's birthday today?Oh boy! _So, Chuck had been right, after all. _How ironic, _he thought. Then, an idea popped into his mind. He got up and said to Marissa, "Back in a minute."

He went over to the counter and two minutes later he returned to their table with a big bowl of ice-cream, furnished with all sorts of fancy glittering decoration. He put it in front of her. "Happy birthday from the bottom of my heart. Even if it is not that much of a _happy _birthday."

Marissa had to smile. "Thank you, Gary. That's really sweet." She started eating. "You wanna try some?" she asked, holding the spoon in Gary's direction. He emptied it. "Definitely better than the coffee." And soon the both of them were sharing the ice-cream together.

  
--...----...----...-- 


	2. Chapter 2

  
Tricked  
part 2

_by TeeJay_  


--...----...----...--

Gary and Marissa walked along State Street towards Chuck's apartment. They had decided to go there and check whether everything was in order. Gary remembered the fuss Chuck had made when Gary had accidentally flushed Sparky, Chuck's goldfish, down the toilet. He wondered if Chuck might have gotten another one that needed to be taken care of. That was the least Gary could do for him now. 

Gary had to try three of the keys that they had been handed at the hospital before he found the one that opened Chuck's door. Marissa and Gary stepped in. Gary had expected complete chaos to greet him. He remembered the times he had been roommates with Chuck in college. And the devastating day last winter when Chuck had moved into his hotel room. But surprisingly, the flat looked quite neat and tidy. Gary could remember being here once or twice, some time ago. Chuck wasn't the person to invite people over to his place very much. 

Gary looked for something vaguely resembling a goldfish. Any kind of fish, really. But he couldn't find anything remotely like it. Apparently, Chuck had given up on keeping fish. He had a brief look into every room. Everything seemed to be in order. Marissa was standing in the kitchen, checking the fridge. Holding out a bottle of milk, she said, "Gary, we should take care of this." She opened it and sniffed at the milk. "Seems to be still okay." 

Gary peered over her shoulder. "What else have we got?" The fridge was filled with all sorts of edibles. He suddenly had an idea. He took Marissa softly by the shoulders and pulled her around to face him. "Happy Birthday, Marissa. You've just won a 'Clean Out The Fridge Birthday Meal'! Here in Chuck's apartment. What do you say?" 

She smiled. "Sounds good." 

"Okay, then where do we start?" 

Marissa produced half a chicken out of the fridge. Then three peppers and some smoked sausages. Gary searched some of the cupboards. Marissa asked, "You found any rice?" 

"Hang on." Gary roamed through another cupboard. "Yeah, a whole package." 

"Okay, then I think we just got about everything we need for a Jambalaya." 

"A Jamba-what?" 

"A _Jambalaya. _It's something my mother taught me to do. It's a Creole rice dish. My Grandfather comes from the New Orleans region." She took the peppers over to the sink to wash and chop them. Half to herself she said, "I can't wait, this is gonna be delicious." 

Gary answered, "I sure hope so." with a bemused touch to his voice. "Do you mind if I took care of dessert?" 

"No, not at all." 

And so the both of them started preparing the feast. Gary added, "Now, all we need is an apron and some of these... these ridiculous cooking hats..." 

An hour later, Chuck's apartment smelled deliciously of garlic and other spices, emanating from the simmering Jambalaya. They had also put together a tomato soup and Gary had made some chocolate brownies that still baked in the oven. Chuck's kitchen looked like a tornado had blown right through it. 

Gary was licking some paste off his fingers. He chuckled. 

Marissa looked at him. "What's so funny, all of a sudden?" 

"It's just, if Chuck came in right now, he'd surely drop dead on the spot. Probably scolding us with something like 'us entering his sacred realm'..." 

Marissa smiled, too. "Yeah, and saying he'd never forgive us for the rest of our poor little lives. That'd be all we'd hear for the next few weeks." 

Gary became serious again. "Marissa, we're joking around like this and Chuck is on the brink of death." 

"Gary, the last thing Chuck would want us to do is wallow in grief. Don't you think?" 

"Yeah, you're right." He bent down to peer into the oven. "Mmh, looks about ready." 

Gary and Marissa sat at the big dinner table in Chuck's living room, the table filled with the left-overs from the meal they had just finished. It had indeed been delicious and both of them had enjoyed it. In between courses they had talked about all sorts of things, but mostly it had been about Chuck. They had talked about what his mother had said. Neither of them had known what the family dispute was all about. What reason had made Chuck grow apart from his family? 

Gary wondered why Chuck hadn't told him about it. They had been friends since college and he already hadn't been talking very much about his parents when they were still working at the brokerage. Maybe they hadn't been as close as Gary thought. He thought about whether Chuck would tell him about problems like that now. Their friendship had become much closer since the paper started coming. Still, it left Gary slightly worried that he didn't know about the whole incident. 

Gary had also recited some old stories from their childhood and Marissa and Gary had laughed a lot. There had also been some sentimental moments but all in all it had been a cheery conversation. Gary looked at Marissa and she, in a way, looked back at him. They still had smiles on their faces but deep inside both of them carried the uncertainty, the fear of losing a good and valued friend. Gary stood up and started to carry the dirty dishes back to the kitchen. Marissa soon followed and they started washing up. 

Three quarters of an hour later, Chuck's kitchen looked pretty much like it had before Marissa and Gary had started messing it up. Except the fridge was almost empty now. The both of them exited Chuck's apartment again, but not before Gary had made a last inspection of all the rooms. 

Gary went back to his hotel room, after he had walked Marissa home. She had offered to stay at his place for one more night but he had declined. He felt he could cope on his own now. It was only 3.30 p.m. and he wanted a little time alone. He didn't know if he was ready to face the paper again. If he went back to the hotel, he would have to. And he couldn't stay away from it forever. The paper needed him, right? _Did it? _He wasn't sure of that either. _Yeah, maybe it needed him but he didn't need _it_! Not after what happened. _But he couldn't run away from it forever. 

Reluctantly, he inserted the key into the key-hole, expecting the orange cat to await him eagerly, meowing loudly. In the summer, he always left the window open a slit, so that the cat was free to move in and out. Much to his surprise, the cat wasn't there. The paper was, though. It was lying almost innocently on the floor, in front of Gary's bed. He began to wonder. _Why was it _in _the room, all of a sudden? The paper had always been delivered in front of his door. And he hadn't picked it up from the doorstep today. Did someone from the hotel put it into his room? Yeah, that was probably the most logical conclusion. But why place it on the floor, then? _Gary looked at it, stared at it as if wanting it to vanish from the spot, from his life. He slowly picked it up. Sitting down on the window sill, he flicked the pages. There was nothing. _Nothing. _Oh sure, there were lots of articles and reports in there but nothing that would have needed Gary's intervention. He felt relief wash over him. He had been convinced he'd never have one look at the damn thing but he also knew if there had been incidents he hadn't taken care of, he would be sorry now. _Did the paper feel something like guilt? Guilt for what "it" had done to Chuck? Or was all this just a lucky coincidence? _When it came to the paper, Gary had stopped believing in coincidences. He put the paper away, wanting to leave it all behind. 

He opened the window, closed his eyes, and listened. Tried to detect anything that sounded different from this morning. After a while, he thought he had fine-tuned his ears to all the sounds that were brought up through the window_. Were the sounds louder and angrier than in the small hours, or did he just imagine that?_ He leaned his head back and concentrated more on listening... 

Gary had been sitting on the window sill for quite some time. Thoughts had been floating through his head, thoughts about Chuck, about the paper, about how his life was just one big blur to him, with the paper spinning it constantly. He had gone back to the times he was still young and naive, the times he and Chuck had been innocent kids. Chuck had been so cheery and happy all the time, like he didn't have a care in the world. What was 

this thing about his family? How long ago had it happened? He would have recognized it, wouldn't he? Chuck had always seemed happy, joking around. Now he kept wondering if Chuck used his humor only to protect himself. To mask the vulnerability he had buried deep within him with his sometimes quite contorted sense of humor. Dammit, he should have taken notice of it much earlier. But after the paper had been coming to him, he had had enough to cope with getting his own life straight. 

And now Chuck's mother had shown up. She was surely feeling remorse. And guilt. Not knowing if her son was ever going to be able to forgive her, for whatever had kept her from contacting him. Living with that burden mustn't be easy. But then, when Marissa and he had met her in the hospital, she had been unusually distanced, cold. He was wondering if she was ever coming back to see Chuck in hospital. Or maybe she couldn't bear the agony of seeing a family member die in front of her eyes. Damn. Damn, damn, damn! If only he had been there a few minutes earlier. He could have prevented it. He could have. He _could _have. He inwardly cursed the paper again. For months and months it had sent him chasing after minor, rather unimportant incidents. But when it came to the vital decisions, it had tricked him. 

Gary's stomach gave a loud rumble. He realized dawn was breaking_. Had it really gotten that late?_ He quickly scanned the fridge for anything edible, when he found some ready-made sandwiches. Chewing on them, he reached for a sweater and exited his hotel room. He had decided to drop by Chuck's hospital room again. He knew it probably looked paranoid if he went there again but something he wasn't able to determine drove him there. 

Gary had taken the El to the Cook County. Walking down the stairs from the El station, he noticed an ugly diner next to the hospital, "Doc Magoo's" written above the door in big letters. He turned to face the hospital entrance and went straight up to the ICU. He registered his visit with the nurse on charge. She didn't look too happy about his intentions, didn't object, though. "But only a few minutes," was her remark. 

Gary quickly nodded and approached Chuck's room. He looked through the glass window in Chuck's door and the picture he still had in his mind from this morning hadn't changed. Gary carefully opened the door, as if afraid he was intruding on someone's privacy. He tried not to be intimidated by all the electrical instruments that still clustered around Chuck's bed. _Just try to act normal, _he told himself. He approached Chuck's bedside with an almost cheerful "Hi buddy." 

In his mind, he imagined Chuck suddenly opening his eyes and replying "Hi Gar." as if nothing had happened. But Chuck just lay there, his chest still rising and falling due to the ventilator that pumped air into his lungs. Gary once again tried to ignore it. He sat down on the chair next to Chuck's bed and began talking to Chuck. He started telling him about his day and about his time with Marissa. After a while he started telling Chuck about the previous day. About how he had made the decision to prevent the bus accident. How he had been too late at the store. How he had bitterly realized his failure. It all came bubbling out of him like a hot well. 

He finished with a "Chuck, don't make me regret my decision for the rest of my life, will ya? I'll drop by again tomorrow." With these words he left the room and the hospital. 

Back in his hotel room, Gary was lying awake in his bed. He felt a certain amount of relief. As if a bit of pressure had been eased through a valve. Now he knew what had driven him to see Chuck again. He had lifted a bit of his burden from his shoulders by telling Chuck about why he hadn't been there to save him. Even if Chuck probably hadn't comprehended it. Then, ever so slowly, his thoughts drifted away as he succumbed to the heavy mantle of sleep covering him. 

  
--...----...----...-- 

"Here's your coffee," were the words of the waitress, handing out two mugs of coffee to Gary and Marissa. The both of them were sitting in their favorite establishment, McGinty's. Gary was scanning the paper again. He had already had a quick look this morning, when he had reluctantly picked it up from outside his door. So far, he hadn't spotted any big disasters. The paper obviously had the decency to leave Gary alone for now. 

He had met with Marissa, so that they could have breakfast together. Both of them wanted to be there when Chuck was taken off the ventilator. Gary studied Marissa. She looked tired with dark rings forming below her eyes. The last two days had taken their toll on both of them. 

Their breakfast was very quiet. A quietness that seemed to be filled with anticipation, anxiousness and expectancy. They both didn't want to admit it but their thoughts drifted around the one fact. What would happen, once they took Chuck off the ventilator? Gary was trying hard not to think about the worst that _could _happen, Marissa braced herself mentally for that very possibility. She was an optimist at heart but she had learned to expect the worst in a situation like this. Gary swallowed the last bit of his coffee and looked at his watch. "It's time to go, Marissa." 

She nodded. "Yeah." 

Gary and Marissa stood in Chuck's room. To Gary it looked as if nothing had changed since he had been there last time. Except dark rings were forming under Chuck's eyes. Dark rings that made Gary feel a shudder running down his spine. It once again reminded him on the fragility of one man's life. Gary kept wondering why Chuck's parents weren't there. _What had been going on with Chuck's family that it had brought such a deep cleavage between them and their son that they didn't stay with him at a moment like this?_ The door opened and an unfamiliar doctor with a nurse by his side entered the room. He introduced himself to the two of them, "Hello, I'm Doctor McNeill." 

Gary and Marissa quickly introduced themselves. Dr. McNeill explained the procedures to them, telling them all they needed to know. They had started to wean Chuck off, the procedure of lowering the number of breaths per minute administered by the ventilator gradually, along with the percentage of oxygen, monitoring if the patient is starting to breathe on his own. "We had Mr. Fishman on twelve breaths a minute and lowered it to eight. The blood gases looked pretty good, so we're now down to four per minute. Mr. Fishman is tolerating the changes very well and I'm happy to say, he's starting to breathe on his own now." 

Gary let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding, the tension releasing in one big blow. Marissa had a big grin on her face, she faintly squeezed Gary's shoulder in reassurance. Gary and Marissa both moved to Chuck's bedside. Gary softly patted him on the arm. "Hey buddy, nice to see you've taken things into your own hands. Keep it up and you'll be outta here in no time." 

Marissa still had a smile on her face as she said, "Chuck, you've taken a big step, I know you can make it all the way through. Don't give up, okay?" 

Dr. McNeill took Gary softly by the arm, indicating it was time to leave. "We still have to monitor him for the next few hours. This was one step forward on a long and sometimes slippery road. I don't want to lower your hopes, but don't expect too much, yet. Things can just as well take a rapid downturn, be prepared for that." And with a reassuring pat on Gary's shoulder, he continued, "But Mr. Fishman has made progress today, there's no need for concern at the moment. It all looks pretty good." 

Gary and Marissa had parted at the El platform, each had gone their separate ways. Inside the El, Gary suddenly realized he was clutching the paper in his hand. He had made an unconscious grab for it from inside his jacket. Disgusted, he was about to tuck it inside the jacket again. He was sick of it. Weary. Bone tired. Now more than ever. But his conscience kept nagging at him. With a sigh, he took it out again and quickly scanned the front page. Nothing important on the front page. On page three, his eyes fixed on a particular article. 

ANGRY HUSBAND SETS HOUSE ON FIRE> 

Quickly, Gary scanned the article. Apparently, a distressed husband and father of two had been left by his wife and children in the morning and the man had been found drunk in front of the burning house where he had been living in a rented flat. The house had burned down almost to the foundation walls, leaving the owners and landlords without a home. Three people had been injured in the incident. 

At first, Gary thought, _How deep can a man sink? _but then he painfully remembered the time where _he_ had been standing in front of his home with Marcia shouting out the window "Heads up!", shortly followed by a flying suitcase. He remembered how numb he had felt, how bereft of a purpose. He realized there was only a very small ridge that decided between the rational or the irrational decision, between giving in to your impulses or letting your better judgement win over. He was wondering if he could persuade the poor soul of a man not to do something disastrous like that. He had to try. He got off at the next El station and headed out to Burbank where the incident was going to occur. 

Inside Gary's empty hotel room, his phone rang. After four unanswered rings the answering machine went on. After the _beep_ there was an unfamiliar female voice. "This is Nurse Owens from the Cook County Hospital. We must inform you of a change in Mr. Fishman's condition. Would you please contact the hospital as soon as possible." With that she hang up and the click of the answering machine echoed hollowly in the deserted hotel room. 

She replaced the receiver on the hook. Nurse Kathryn Owens hated answering machines. They always made her feel uneasy, she preferred to speak to someone in person. Especially in a case like this. One of their ICU patients, a Mr. Charles Fishman had taken a turn for the worse. There were only two phone numbers given on his file. The first was of a Gary Hobson whom she had just left a message. Sighing, she dialed the second number. 

Marissa was just ironing her laundry. She had put on her favorite music and swayed lightly to the beat. There, in the background, she heard a noise that didn't belong to the music. She turned the music down and now identified the sound as her phone that was ringing. She quickly put the hot iron down on the rest and went to answer the phone. "Marissa Clark." 

"Ms. Clark, this is Nurse Owens from the Cook County Hospital." 

Marissa immediately knew something was wrong. She cut in, "Has something happened to Chuck, to Mr. Fishman?" 

"I'm afraid so, Ms. Clark." Her heart skipped a beat. _He couldn't be... No, not Chuck. _The female voice yanked her back to reality. "Ms. Clark, Mr. Fishman has developed a condition we call DIC. He is in critical condition and we would need you to come down, please. I have already tried to reach a Mr. Hobson, do you know him?" 

Marissa's thoughts began to swirl. She could only stammer, "Gary, yes. He is... he must be... I'll try to contact him. I'll be there as fast as I can." 

"Thank you, Ms. Clark." 

Marissa wanted to put the phone down but the receiver limply fell out of her hand. She realized she was shaking. Trying to get a grip on herself, she picked up the phone again and called Gary's number. Her fingers were still shaking as she hit the dial buttons. All she got was the answering machine. She left a rather confused message, inwardly swearing why Gary wasn't in. _Come on, Gary, pick up the phone! _she begged. But no avail, Gary wasn't there. Now, she wished Gary hadn't thrown away the cell phone Chuck once had given to him. A thought like, _Why is he never there for us when we need him? _ran through her head but she tried to banish it. That wasn't fair to Gary. Often enough, he sacrificed himself for other people. Gary probably was the most self-sacrificing man she'd ever known. She once again wished he was there. It was hard facing the hospital alone. She called Spike and harnessed him, leaving the house to head for the hospital. 

Once she had gotten there, she immediately went up to the ICU. She addressed the nurse at the desk. "I'm Marissa Clark, I was notified to come and see Mr. Fishman." 

The nurse got up and guided Marissa to Chuck's room. "Ms. Clark, I'm nurse Owens." They stopped in front of Chuck's room. "Would you please wait outside for a second?" she said and then went inside, checked Chuck's chart and the equipment. Marissa's apprehension grew with every second. _What was she doing in there so long? Was something wrong? _Nurse Owens came out again. Marissa addressed her again, "Is he all right?" 

"Mr. Fishman is stable at the moment. Let me explain his condition to you first. He has developed a rare disorder we call DIC - Disseminated Intravascular Coagulation. It sometimes occurs after trauma or surgery and it is a condition that prevents the blood from clotting at the injured body sites and causes generalized bleeding. We've been able to stop the bleeding for now and Mr. Fishman has been given transfusions. We've managed to stabilize him for now." 

"May I go in?" 

"I'm afraid we can't let anyone into his room at the moment. But you can stay here for a while if you want." Nurse Owens gently patted Marissa on the shoulder. 

Marissa nodded. "Thank you." Her thoughts were spinning. Chuck was in there, fighting for his life, and all she could do was stand around and do nothing. She felt so futile, so helpless. Then she remembered Gary. She had to try and reach him again. She went downstairs to find a pay-phone. 

  
--...----...----...-- 

Gary watched the world go by down below him. He looked through the window of the El-train and watched the beads of rain slide down the window. It had started raining a quarter of an hour ago and the sky had turned an unattractive gray. However, his "task" had been accomplished to his satisfaction. He had found the man in distress and had been able to persuade him not to do anything foolish. Gary wasn't too good concerning psychological matters, but apparently he had gotten through to the man as the article in the paper had changed to a report about the latest trends in fashion. He was already looking forward to a nice and hot cup of coffee, back in his hotel room. 

Once he had gotten there, he set up his coffeemaker and almost automatically checked his voice mail messages. The first one was from Marcia. Something about the divorce and the lawyer and would he please call her back. _Yeah, _Gary thought. There had been a time when only hearing her voice had given him goose-bumps. But not anymore. He had been lost in thought and suddenly became aware of an unfamiliar voice. "...of a change in Mr. Fishman's condition." Gary almost dropped the kettle. _Oh my God, something had happened to Chuck! _Then there was Marissa's voice. In a jumble of stammered words he could make out that she had gone to the hospital already. Then the answering machine gave a _click_ to indicate there were no more messages to be played. Gary hastily grabbed his jacket and was just about to leave when the phone rang. 

"Yeah," he answered. 

"Gary? Thank God you're there." Marissa gave a sigh of relief. 

"Marissa? Are you still at the hospital? What happened?" 

"He, Chuck, he's having complications, something about bleeding and transfusions. Gary, I don't think it's looking good. They won't even let me in there." Marissa sounded troubled enough to make Gary shudder. 

"I'll be right there," Gary just said and put down the phone. 

Gary came running up the stairs to the ICU in the Cook County Hospital. He spotted Marissa nervously pacing the hallway in front of Chuck's room. 

"Marissa," he called out. 

"Oh Gary." She came towards him and he could see she was close to tears. He took her gently in his arms and gave her as confident a squeeze as he was able to. Nervously, she said, "Gary, I don't know what's going on. There's doctors and nurses running in and out of there. Can you see what's happening?" 

Gary stared through the window to see if he could make out anything. Two nurses were arranging all sorts of medical equipment around Chuck. He could see blood transfusions hanging from an IV-rack. He spotted Dr. McNeill who was doing what looked like intubating Chuck again. _Oh no, _Gary thought. He turned to Marissa. "Looks like Chuck's giving them a hard time. Come on, we'd better wait." With those words he guided her to those plastic chairs that they had already manned not too long ago. Endless minutes passed. Then, the door to Chuck's room opened and Dr. McNeill came out. He went in Gary's and Marissa's direction. They both stood up. 

"Mr. Hobson, Ms. Clark." Dr. McNeill seemed to read the question in both their eyes, wanting to ask how his patient was doing. "Mr. Fishman is stable at the moment." 

There was immediate relief on both their faces. He explained Chuck's condition, DIC, to them once again, telling them there was still immediate risk of Chuck losing his struggle for life. But apparently he was out of danger for now. However, they weren't allowed to see him at the moment. They had also put him on the ventilator again, just as Gary had witnessed. Now all they could do was wait and pray. 

After they had left the hospital, Gary and Marissa had gone back to her apartment. The first shock had settled and they both became aware of what they had just been told with a fearful realization. None of them had been very talkative and they soon parted. Gary went back to his own apartment, so to speak. 

He now sat on his couch, staring at the television, he caught himself drifting off, not paying attention to what was shown on the screen. Those thoughts came inevitably back to him. _Why had he let this happen? Why hadn't he prevented it? Could he have prevented it at all? Maybe there was something like fate. Perhaps this had been destined to happen and not even he, Gary Hobson, was to undo it. _He tried to concentrate on the TV again. What was he watching? Some late night comedy show, he figured, as he heard some artificial laughter in the background. No, he wasn't able to concentrate, let alone laugh about it. He took the remote control and switched off the TV. A stinging headache had found its way into Gary's skull. He leaned back and rubbed his temples with his fingertips. He needed to rest. To rest. Yeah. Slowly, he stood up and got to bed, still haunted by the images of a miserable looking Chuck, lying motionless in an ICU hospital bed. 

  
--...----...----...-- 

It had now been four days since Chuck's downturn. Since Gary and Marissa had so suddenly been summoned to the hospital. Chuck still hadn't regained consciousness, nor shown much improvement at all. But he also hadn't gotten worse, which, at this point, was at least a good sign. The day after the DIC episode, Gary and Marissa had been allowed into Chuck's room again. Chuck still looked exhausted and worn out. The rings below his eyes had deepened and the vent that was breathing for Chuck gave the scene an even more frightening touch. Gary had spent the better part of his afternoons at Chuck's bedside, even if he wasn't actually able to do anything much. But he believed that maybe it did have a positive influence on him. Marissa had stayed at the hospital a lot, too. Every now and then, Gary had to go and take care of the paper. The damned paper, he still cursed it. But he couldn't neglect his responsibility. If he couldn't help Chuck now, he could at least save other people from their fate. At times he felt like he couldn't take it anymore. Not only the paper but the tremendous pressure the situation caused. On one hand, it was good that Chuck didn't get worse. On the other hand, there was an unnerving uncertainty that hung in the air. Chuck couldn't stay like this forever. 

  
--...----...----...-- 

Gary carefully opened the door to Chuck's room. He had spent the whole day chasing children that were going to be run over by a car, preventing a drive-by shooting, putting out a fire in a restaurant, and more incidents along those lines. And now he was tired and in a gloomy mood. It had been one of the worst days in months. Chuck lay there as he had the previous days. Still no sign of improvement. Gary pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed for a while. He had come to a point where he couldn't hold up his optimistic view. Not today. Not anymore. His life lay in shambles and his best friend was close to death. And yet he had to go out on the streets each and every day, taking care of what the paper laid out for him. He leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees and buried his face in his hands. Tears of frustration and desperation slowly welled up in his eyes. He was too weary to control them and he let them roll down his cheeks. All the anger, the fear, the pressure that had accumulated over the last days were joined in these tears. 

Suddenly, the door opened. Gary didn't even look up. Nothing mattered to him anymore, not at this moment. It was Marissa. She sensed Gary and somehow the somber mood he was in. Carefully, she probed, "Gary? Are you all right?" 

He didn't reply. He just stared at the wall opposite him with an empty expression. Marissa could feel, he had been crying. She approached him from behind and softly laid her hands onto his shoulders, half whispering, "Gary, it's all right. It's gonna be all right." 

He quietly answered, "No, it's not," so low that she almost didn't hear it. 

Marissa gently said, "Come on, you need to get outta here." 

Reluctantly, he had come with her. Together they went to Marissa's apartment where she had made a fresh cup of coffee. They sat next to each other on her couch, drinking from their mugs. "Feeling better?" Marissa asked. 

"Yeah," Gary answered quietly. And after a short pause, he added, "Thanks." 

"Isn't that what friends are for?" She put one hand on his knee. He took it and squeezed it in a gesture of pure gratitude. 

"I wouldn't know if you hadn't been there to back me up. I... I..." Gary stuttered. He didn't want to sound awkward, but he honestly wanted to tell Marissa how much he depended on her support. 

She seemed to understand him without words. "I know, Gary." She reached over to the coffee pot to pour some more coffee when she accidentally touched the paper that Gary had put onto the table. It sent the paper sliding to the floor, the pages shuffling and disarranging. She felt embarrassed. "I'm sorry." 

Gary quickly picked it up and wanted to say, "Never mind." when his eyes caught an article on the front page. In big letters the headline said: POWER FAILURE IN HOSPITAL - NINE PATIENTS DIE>. Below it was a picture of the Cook County Hospital. He cut his phrase of in mid-sentence. "Never-" 

Marissa looked at him. "Gary? What is it?" 

"This." He pointed at the front page. "The headline." He read it out to her. _"Late on Thursday afternoon, a power failure occurred at the Cook County Hospital when construction workers accidentally cut off the power supply to the whole hospital. The emergency power generator that would have compensated for the loss of power had proven to be damaged which left the hospital without electricity for nearly five hours. Nine people lost their lives in the incident, most of them Intensive Care patients."_ Gary stopped right there. His face bore a terrified expression. The same thought shot through both their heads. _Chuck!_

"Marissa, I can't let this happen." And under his breath he muttered, "Not again." 

Marissa just nodded. 

Gary and Marissa were running from the El platform to the hospital. _Late afternoon. _It was ten to five. He prayed they were not too late. In front of the Cook County, Gary stopped. Out of breath, Marissa let out a questioning, "Gary?" 

Gary looked around. "I don't see any-" He was panting and had to take breaths between the words. "-any construction works." He took Marissa by the arm. "Come on." 

Together they hurried around the building, to the back of the hospital. Through some of the hospital windows, Gary could still see artificial light shining, so he figured he wasn't too late to hold off disaster. Finally, Gary spotted two men in dirty gray jump-suits who were working in a hole in the ground. One was armed with a big pick-axe, hammering loose one part of the hole's wall. Gary and Marissa approached the hole. The two workers looked up tat Gary as he bent over the opening. Marissa had remained at a distance, leaving the talking to Gary. 

Gary didn't know how exactly he was gonna stop them from digging, he just knew he _had to _somehow. "Hey, look. You... you gotta stop diggin' up that wall. There's a cable running just behind that for the power supply to the hospital," Gary delivered while pointing to the wall of the hole with the paper insistently. The two workers look at each other questioningly. The tall and sturdy one just said, "Oh yeah? And who are you, mister?" 

Gary could see he was once again not taken seriously. "Gary. Gary Hobson," he quickly said. 

The smaller worker then asked, "And are you with the construction company?" 

"No. No, I... You gotta-" 

The workers just shrugged and went on working. 

Gary was getting desperate. Lives were at stake here, why couldn't people see that? "Now look, could you please just stop for a minute and check if there is a cable running behind that wall? Please!" Gary urged the workers. 

The small one put away the pick-axe with an exasperated comment on his lips that Gary was to stop bugging them and let them carry on working undisturbed, when he caught the desperate, insistent and somewhat sad expression in Gary's eyes. That look made his words stuck in the worker's throat. The tall one pushed the small one in the ribs to indicate he should ignore Gary and keep on working. But the small one hesitated. "Mike, maybe we should check it out." 

With that he carefully scratched away some of the wall with his gloved hand. When he had gone in about 5 centimeters, he gestured his colleague over and pointed at a black cable that ran through the wall. "I'll be damned!" said the tall one. They looked up at Gary. 

Or rather where Gary had been, because he wasn't there anymore. Gary had quickly led Marissa away, leaving the scene without another word. He knew what would have been coming. He was tired of all the questions about how he knew. 

The smaller worker had climbed up to the top of the construction hole and saw Gary and Marissa leaving. He called after Gary, "Mister! Hey, mister!" But Gary and Marissa rounded the corner. Once they were out of sight, Gary took the paper out of the inside of his jacket and looked at the headline. 3 KILLED AS AMBULANCE RUNS RED LIGHT> Gary stopped walking, gasping a soft "Oh no." 

Marissa turned to face him. "Gary? What is it?" 

"It... it says '3 killed as ambulance runs red light'. I.. I gotta go." 

"Yeah, it's okay." 

"Will you be all right?" 

"Sure. Go ahead, I'll be fine." 

Gary hurried off towards the El while Marissa entered the hospital. 

Marissa immediately went to the ICU and when she was just about to enter Chuck's room, when she heard someone call her name. "Miss Clark?" 

Marissa turned around to where the voice had come from. A young doctor approached her. "Miss Clark, I'm Dr. Carter." 

He wouldn't have had to tell her, she could reconize someone as easily by voice as sighted people could by face. "Dr. Carter." Marissa frowned in concern. "Has anything happened?" 

"Well, er, yeah. Mr. Fishman's-" Carter suddenly remembered they had asked him to call the patient by his first name. "Chuck's condition has improved. We were able to take him off the vent today and cut down his medications." 

A smile illuminated Marissa's face. "Thank you, Dr. Carter. I can see him now, can't I?" 

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead." He went with her the few steps to the door and held it open for Marissa. She stepped through it, saying, "Thanks." 

Marissa sat down at Chuck's bedside as she had done so often during the last few days. A feeling of relief washed over her when she noticed that the mechanical sound of the ventilator wasn't present anymore. She had started talking to Chuck during her visits, just as Gary always did. It gave her a feeling of assurance, a feeling that she wasn't sitting around helplessly. "So, Chuck. I hear you're making progress. That's a good thing. That's a very good thing." She paused for a while. "A shame that Gary's not here to see it. Actually, he was with me but the paper got in the way. I'm sure he'll be here as fast as he can, though. I just wish it wasn't gi-" She suddenly stopped in mid-sentence when she sensed a movement beside her. It wasn't - it couldn't be Chuck, could it? She heard a soft groan. 

"Chuck?" 

There was another low moan. Now she was sure it was Chuck. She went out the room and called the nurse that was standing nearby. The nurse told Marissa to wait outside the room and went in. 

As Marissa stood in the hallway, she suddenly heard hurried footsteps from behind. This footfall could only be Gary. She turned round. "Gary?" 

"Yeah," he answered, baffled. _How could she distinguish him from all other people? _It constantly amazed him. When he drew closer, he could see a happy smile on her lips and he thought he could even detect a twinkle in her eye. 

Before Gary could ask, she said, "I think Chuck's waking up." 

Gary couldn't believe it, it was too good to be true. "That's- that's wonderful!" 

He could see the nurse hovering around Chuck's bed through the window, checking and adjusting the instruments. "Have you talked to him?" 

"No, he's just coming round. They told me to wait here. Did you save those people?" 

For a moment Gary was confused in his happiness. "Huh?" Then he remembered. "Oh, that. Yeah, yeah, no problem." 

Then the nurse came out of Chuck's room. She nodded to the both of them, "He's not fully awake, it'll take a while. Feel free to go in, though." 

Marissa and Gary didn't have to be told twice. Eagerly though also carefully, they entered the room. Gary pulled up another chair, so that he and Marissa could sit next to the bed. Gary regarded his friend for a moment. Chuck looked so much better without the ventilator being stuck into his throat. He could see Chuck's eye-lids fluttering and his head turning slightly. Softly, he spoke his name. "Chuck?" 

Chuck seemed to stare right at him. However, he didn't look like he was aware what was going on. He heard Marissa's whisper, "What's he doing, Gary?" 

"He- he just opened his eyes," Gary whispered back. There was a bit of a magic spell hanging in the air that made the both of them whisper. 

Gary took Chuck's hand, trying to establish physical contact with his buddy. "Chuck, it's me, Gary. Me and Marissa. We're right here." 

Chuck just uttered a low moan. Gary wasn't sure they were getting through to Chuck. 

Marissa then said, "Chuck, I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can, we're glad to have you back." 

Just then Dr. Carter entered the room. "So, I hear Chuck has decided to join the living again," he said cheerfully. "But I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask you to leave now. I doubt you'll get to talk to him today anyway. If you come back tomorrow, I think you'll have more luck." That was Gary's and Marissa's call. They both retreated and left Chuck in the doctors' and nurses' capable hands. 

  
--...----...----...-- 

The next day, Gary and Marissa had arranged to meet and go to the hospital together to see Chuck again. However, Spike had accidentally stepped into a piece of broken glass and had to be treated by a vet. Gary had volunteered to come with Marissa but she had told him to go ahead, she would catch up with him in the hospital. 

Now, Gary was on his way to the ICU once again. Never had he walked along the corridors with this degree of anticipation, though. When he arrived at Chuck's door, he first peered through the window in the door. A doctor he recognized as Dr. McNeill was standing at Chuck's bedside, obviously talking to Chuck. So, Gary waited a minute until Dr. McNeill came out. When the doctor did, he immediately saw Gary. "Mr. Hobson, is it?" 

"Gary," he offered his first name. 

"Gary. Your friend has already asked for you. But make it brief, Mr. Fishman still needs his rest." 

"Yeah," Gary happily obliged. "Give me five minutes." 

Dr. McNeill nodded and Gary went in, a honey-pie-smile on his lips, his stomach tingling with excitement. He slowly opened the door and stepped in. Chuck's torso, that still was mostly covered by some sort of white bandage, had been propped up a little and Chuck smiled at him. 

Gary spoke first, "Hi ya, buddy. How's it goin'?" It sounded like the both of them had just met up after work, but these words seemed to say so much more. Gary pulled up one of the chairs to sit next to Chuck. 

Chuck's lips twisted into one of his lopsided smirks, "Well, ya know, the nurses leave much to be desired and the room service is terrible. But apart from that," he attempted to make a dismissive gesture with one hand but winced at the pain it produced, "I'm fine." 

Gary had to grin. He was overjoyed to see Chuck hadn't lost his sense of humor. "That's- that's good to hear." He looked to the floor as a sudden wave of joy and relief washed over him. When he looked up again, Chuck thought he could detect the slightest sign of Gary's eyes watering. Chuck could only imagine what his friends must have been through the last few days. "Hey, where's Marissa?" 

"Oh, she'll be here soon. Spike had a piece of glass in his paw and she had to take him to the vet." 

"He's gonna be all right, is he?" 

"Yeah, I don't see why not." 

Gary had wanted to tell Chuck so much, about what had happened over the last days, about how they had feared and worried, and here they were, making small talk. "Hey Chuck, it's good to have you back. I- I-" Gary couldn't get the words out right, it felt so awkward. "You know what, you need your rest. I'll drop by again tomorrow, okay? Sit tight." 

"Yeah," Chuck snorted. "It's not that I'm about to go anywhere." 

Gary smiled. "See ya tomorrow." 

"I'll be here." 

With that, Gary left the room and ran straight into Marissa's arms. She had Spike by her side who had a white dressing on his left front paw and limped a little. Gary approached the both of them. "Hey, Marissa. How's Spike?" 

"Oh, he's gonna be all right in a few days. Have you been in there?" She gestured in the general direction of Chuck's room. 

"Yeah, I talked to him. It's like he- like this never happened. Well, almost. And I bet he'd be glad to see you. The doctor said, just five minutes." Gary took Spike so that Marissa didn't have to take him inside the room. "I'll wait here." 

Marissa entered and found her way to the chair that was still beside the bed. She heard Chuck say, "Marissa. It's good to see you." 

"It's good to hear you too. How do you feel?" 

"Ya know, I wish everybody wouldn't ask me how I'm feelin'," Chuck replied. "But apart from all these wires around me, I guess I'm gonna be all right. How's Spike, while we're at it?" 

"Spike?" Gary must have told him about the glass splinter. "He'll be fine." 

Marissa was amazed at how normal Chuck sounded. _Hell, he had just awoken from a few days of lying in a coma! _But she was glad he was awake at all, so why did she worry? She felt the thoughts swirl around in her head and had to get herself focus on the conversation. She was thinking about whether to tell him his mother had been here but then she dismissed the idea. It was a little too soon for that conversation. She heard Chuck's voice again. 

"So, have I been missing out on much?" 

"Yeah, the Sears Tower was bombed down and Bill Clinton resigned." She waited for Chuck's reaction. He didn't say anything and she could just imagine that deadpan expression on his face. "I'm kidding, Chuck. We've all been through a lot these last few days and now we're just glad to have you back." 

Marissa didn't know how much Gary and he had talked about the paper, about not preventing Chuck being shot and then saving his life through the paper, so she didn't want to interfere. "Look, Chuck. You must be exhausted. I'll come back to visit tomorrow, okay?" 

"Yeah, okay." 

She touched Chuck's hand as she stood up and went out to join Gary in the hallway. 

  
--...----...----...-- 

Gary and Marissa had both been to see Chuck the next day and also the two days after that. Their visits had been relatively brief as Chuck still needed to get his rest and take it easy. They had made small talk, not more. However, he seemed to get better with every day and that old color seemed to come back into his face. It was now the fourth day after Chuck had awoken from the coma and Gary was on his way to see Chuck. It was late afternoon and Gary had been preventing little accidents here and there over the day. It hadn't been the most stressful day, so he was quite content and cheerful. 

_All in a day's work, _he mused silently as he took the elevator to the ICU. When he approached Chuck's room, he found it empty. The first reaction that shot through him was shock. A nurse passed by and saw just a hint of it in Gary's face. "Mr. Fishman has been moved to the regular ward. You were looking for him, weren't you?" 

It took a few seconds for that statement to register. "I... er... yeah. Yeah, thank you," he stammered. He had already turned to go but then realized he didn't even know _where_ to go. "Can you- can you tell me where they moved him to?" 

"Surgical ward. Second floor." 

Gary mumbled a _Thanks _and made his way there. 

After he had checked with the nurse at the reception desk and got Chuck's room number, he had finally found him. Hospitals always made him uneasy with the smell of disinfectant and the white and sterile looking walls and bedcovers. He knocked on the door and entered. There were two beds in the room, one was occupied by an elderly man who was reading in a magazine, the other was, naturally, occupied by Chuck. Both looked up when Gary entered. Chuck's face lit up visibly as he recognized his buddy. As Gary drew closer, Chuck let out a sigh. "Gar. Thank God you're here. I thought I was gonna die of boredom." 

"Well, I'm glad you're well enough to be bored." Gary said with a twinkle in his eye. It was good to see Chuck on the road of recovery. 

"So, Gar, the paper giving you a hard time?" 

"No. No, today was alright. A little somethin' here and here but, you know, nothing I couldn't handle. Not like-" He broke off in mid-sentence. Gary had been reluctant to talk about it. To talk about that day, that fateful day Chuck had been gunned down. He knew Chuck must have wanted to ask him why he hadn't been there to save him. He could read it in Chuck's face. "Chuck. Let's talk about this. I- I know you must have been asking yourself why it wasn't in the paper, why I didn't prevent your-" Gary struggled for the right words. "-you being shot." 

Chuck's face sank visibly but he was gladly taking the opportunity to get clear on what had bothering him ever since the incident. He felt it was difficult for Gary to talk about it, so he let him speak. 

"That day, it was-" Gary was still stammering. He looked at Chuck, whose face had become very serious; he seemed to be intent on listening carefully. Gary gathered his thoughts and started over. "There was another headline that day. 14 people were gonna be killed in a bus accident. And there was your article, the one about the hold-up. It hadn't given any names and it said three people were wounded. Not killed. Hell, Chuck, if I had known it was you, I would have gotten help. I thought- I thought I could make it to both places in time. I was so sure." Gary stopped but after a second went on. 

"I prevented the bus accident, there was this dog, a German shepherd and he-" He corrected himself when he thought about Kira. "-she got hit by the bus. But no people were injured. Then I rushed to the store. Only... I was too late." The horror was still showing in Gary's eyes as the scenes unraveled in front of his mind's eye once again. "I- I saw your car and when I couldn't find you, I phoned the hospital. When I found out it was you... My God, I- I was blaming myself. Chuck... Look... I'm-" It was so difficult for Gary to utter these words. "Chuck, I'm sorry." 

Chuck was visibly moved. He had suspected, no, he had _known_ that something else must have gotten in the way, otherwise Gary would have prevented the hold-up. He had never really blamed Gary for not helping him, though he had felt a certain amount of bitterness; bitterness towards the paper, maybe also towards the fact that Gary hadn't been there, he couldn't say exactly. He looked Gary right in the eyes. "Hey Gar." Chuck's voice was laden with emotion. "There's no need to apologize. I know you did what you could." He thought he could detect a flicker of relief in Gary's eyes. _Had Gary thought he would blame him for this? Had he expected him, Chuck, to condemn Gary for his actions?_

He tried to lighten his friend's mood a little. "And after all, I'm gonna be up and about soon enough. Once I get this off me." He tapped the bandage on his chest. 

Gary could smile again. "Yeah," Gary said somewhat reluctantly, knowing full well how annoying Chuck could be sometimes. "I'm sure you-" Just at that moment, there was another knock on the door. Gary, Chuck, and the older patient looked who it was and behind a bunch of yellow roses they could detect Marissa. Since she hadn't been in this particular room before, she called out Chuck's name. 

"I'm back here, Gary's here too." 

Now Marissa didn't have any problems navigating to Chuck's bed with a little help from Spike. Carefully putting the flowers onto Chuck's bed, she said, "I brought you something." 

"Thank you, they're beautiful." 

"Well, I couldn't judge that but they sure smell lovely," she said with a grin on her face. 

Gary took them from the bed and went to look for a vase. 

Marissa found another chair and placed it beside the bed. "So, I hear you're feeling better." 

"Mh-hm." Chuck nodded. "Nothing better to make you well than hospital food," he said with a healthy portion of sarcasm. Marissa was hurting for Chuck. She vividly remembered when she had been in hospital five years ago, having her appendix taken out. 

Gary returned and put the roses that were now carefully arranged in a plain white vase onto Chuck's bedside table. The three of them talked about their days and they were all laughing when Gary told them about how his Mum had left a rather confusing message on his answering machine last night, due to the fact that she and Bernie had been out and the both of them had obviously had a little too much of the red wine. The laughter wore off and Gary and Marissa both thought the same thing. _Was it time to tell Chuck his mother had been here? _There was an uncomfortable silence and Chuck couldn't help but notice the question that formed on both Gary's and Marissa's face. Chuck looked at his friends. 

"What? What is it? Is there something you're not telling me?" 

Marissa took the initiative. "It's your mother." 

"My mother? What about her?" 

"She was here, Chuck. The day after you got into hospital, when you were still unconscious. She stayed at your bedside for a while and then just left." 

Gary and Marissa both noticed Chuck didn't feel comfortable about this. He just asked, "That's it?" in a way that told Gary and Marissa he didn't wanna talk about this anymore. So, they went back to more delightful conversation. Soon their time was up and they had to leave Chuck on his own once again. 

Turning to go, Gary asked, "Is there anything I can get you? Like something to read?" 

"Oh yeah. Great. Get me some novel. Anything entertaining. I'm bored to death here." 

  
--...----...----...-- 

Another ten days later, Chuck was ready to be released from hospital. He had made a fairly good recovery and the doctors were satisfied with the way the healing process progressed. Gary and Marissa had been to visit him almost every day and with every day Chuck was wailing more and more about staying in hospital, it was really time he got home. Chuck still had a bandage on his chest and was restricted in moving his left arm but apart from that he was pretty much back to good old Chuck Fishman. Or at least he gave that impression to everyone. Sometimes Gary wasn't so sure that Chuck was feeling as good as he tried to show. But he figured if the doctors said it was okay for Chuck to go home, then it _was_ okay. 

So, on the big day Gary had gone to Chuck's apartment and packed some decent clothes for Chuck. He put the bag on Chuck's bed after he entered the room, greeting him with the usual "Hi buddy." Chuck smiled at him like he hadn't smiled in days. They were all happy about Chuck leaving the hospital. Marissa had an appointment, so she couldn't join them for getting Chuck home but she promised to meet the both of them at Chuck's apartment later. Chuck was just about to get ready, his legs already dangling over the edge of the bed. He seemed to be moving fairly easily, so Gary didn't want to impose any help. He was watching him out of the corner of his eye though, as to lend him help if needed. 

He vividly remembered when he had been in hospital with a broken rib and how difficult getting dressed had been. But there still was something called pride and Gary didn't want to hurt Chuck's by helping him dress like a two-year-old kid. Gary had carefully chosen clothes that were easy to get into, it wouldn't do Chuck any good wrestling with a tight pullover now. It took about ten minutes for Chuck to be fully dressed but he had managed without Gary's help, though Gary had purposefully ignored a few painful groans uttered by Chuck. When Gary saw that Chuck was ready, he inquired, "So, you all dressed up and ready to go?" 

"Yup, as ready as a plane at lift-off." 

"Okay, then let's get outta here." 

"Gar, you don't know how gladly I'll approve." 

The two nurses on duty quickly told Chuck a _Get well soon _on his way and Gary and Chuck slowly but steadily made their way downstairs where a cab would take them to Chuck's apartment. When they got there, surprisingly Marissa was already making coffee. As they entered Chuck creased his nose, breathing in the smell of freshly made coffee. "You know guys, I can't begin to tell you how much I've been longing for a decent cup of coffee!" 

Marissa and Gary both had to grin. Chuck sank down on his couch and Marissa soon had everyone equipped with a steaming cup of coffee and home-made cookies. Gary and Marissa had been shopping and preparing everything for Chuck's return home, so that he didn't need to take care of anything during these first few days. 

The three of them talked for a while and, when Gary and Marissa were reasonably sure Chuck would be fine on his own, they left him to rest. The both of them knew he was more exhausted than he let show. 

  
--...----...----...-- 

Chuck lay in bed, dead-beat to his bones. He was glad about being out of the hospital and finally in his own bed again. It felt good, real good. Nothing ever felt as good as your own bed! And he was tired and exhausted, maybe more that he'd like to admit to himself. What had he done today? He had gotten dressed for the first time in weeks, taken a cab home, drunk some coffee with Gary and Marissa, talked for a while, watched some TV and now he was lying in bed. _Amazing, how quickly a body can deteriorate, _he thought. In spite of him being dead tired, he couldn't fall asleep. His chest still hurt and he considered taking one of the painkillers they had left him but then decided to try without it first. His thoughts involuntarily wandered back to what Marissa and Gary had told him in the hospital the other day. His mother had been to visit him... 

But _why?_ They had probably phoned his parents when he had been in a coma, telling them about the life-threatening nature of his injury. What was so unusual about a mother wanting to see her son perhaps for the last time in her life? _His_ mother. He had to think hard, trying to remember when he had seen her or his father for the last time. That must have been close to ten years now. Or maybe even longer? He had tried to banish any thought about his parents from his mind over the last few years and even now a cold hatred and bitterness surfaced when he thought about what they had done. Not only to him but to the rest of the family. He was ashamed and angry at the same time. How could they have done such a thing? How could they? 

With these final thoughts, Chuck drifted off to sleep even before he could attempt to find a satisfying answer for the question that he hadn't been able to answer for many many years. 

  
--...----...----...-- 

The next afternoon Marissa dropped in to find out how Chuck was doing. Chuck felt like a three year old child, being looked after by a babysitter. But in a way he was glad that someone was around most of the time. There were still a lot of things he couldn't do on his own and either Marissa or Gary gladly lent a helping hand. 

Gary had already been there in the morning before he had to go off on some wild goose chase the paper had imposed on him. Chuck had spent the better part of the day still in bed but decided to get up when Marissa had dropped in. Chuck had voiced his desire for getting some fresh air outside. So, he and Marissa had taken a little stroll around the block. She sensed that even those few hundred meters had already strained Chuck and once back in the apartment, they settled on his couch once again with a cup of tea for a change. At first Chuck had protested. "I don't have any stomach trouble, remember?" 

But Marissa had only smiled and said, "Relax Chuck, you'll like it." She had brought a strong Darjeeling, her favorite tea. She put the kettle on and stuck her head round the corner of Chuck's kitchen. "And anyway, if you don't like it, I'll make you your coffee." 

A few minutes later the water was boiling and she prepared the tea. Once she thought it was strong enough, she poured herself and Chuck a cup. "Do you take sugar or milk?" 

"Sugar, two spoons," she heard Chuck mumbling on the couch. She put the sugar into Chuck's and milk into her own mug, stirred and then went over to the couch. "Here you are," she handed him the mug cheerfully. 

"Thanks." He sipped and almost burnt his tongue. "Ouch, it's hot!" 

"Well, what did you expect? Iced tea?" 

Chuck just snorted. But he had to admit, the tea didn't taste so bad. He took another careful sip. He heard Marissa say, "So, you like it?" 

"Yeah, it's not too bad." 

That didn't sound too convinced but Marissa knew Chuck actually liked it, only didn't really want to admit that. 

But something else was weighing on Marissa's mind. Her mother had just phoned her today and they had happily chit-chatted about the latest gossip in their family. Which had made her think about Chuck's mother's strange visit to the hospital. She was aware of the fact that Chuck obviously wasn't too comfortable speaking about it but she wanted to confront him again. "Chuck," she began, "I know it's probably none of my business but your mother - you wouldn't have told your parents about your accident if the hospital hadn't phoned them, would you?" 

She immediately knew she shouldn't have started this conversation. She couldn't actually see the bittersweet expression on Chuck's face but the uncomfortable silence that greeted her spoke chapters. "I- I'm sorry, Chuck, I-" 

"No. No, it's alright Marissa. I just don't like to talk about it, all right?" 

"Yeah, I- I respect that," she quietly said. "But sometimes it makes all the difference if you talk about it to someone." 

There was another awkward moment of silence. Marissa then asked, "You want any more tea?" 

"Yeah, that'd be nice." 

Marissa had to smile. 

"What are you smiling at?" 

"Oh, it's just- So, you like the tea?" 

"Yes, actually yeah." 

"See, I told ya you'd like it." 

  
--...----...----...-- 

Marissa put down the two brown paper bags she had brought back from her shopping onto the kitchen table. While she put the things where they belonged, she found herself thinking about dropping by Garys. She hadnt talked to him for days. Chuck was recovering quickly and she only dropped in every now and then. In the beginning, the time after Chuck had come home, she had run into Gary occasionally but now, as both of them didnt go to Chucks house that often anymore, they rarely crossed paths. It was shortly after seven in the evening and after her rushed shopping trip through crowded malls, she was looking forward to a nice and relaxing walk to the Blackstone. 

As Marissa was walking through the corridor towards Garys room, she hoped he wasnt out on one of his rescues. She softly knocked on the door. When she didnt hear an answer, she knocked again, a little louder this time. 

Gary suddenly awoke form a weary doze. Hadnt there just been a knock on the door? He heard someone who sounded very much like Marissa call his name. 

Sleepily, he walked over to the door and opened it, while muttering, "Yeah, Im coming." 

He opened the door and it was indeed Marissa, standing in the doorway. Gary rubbed his neck that had gone a little stiff from lying in an awkward position on the couch. "Marissa. Come on in. Is anything up?" 

"No, not really. I thought I'd just drop by. Gary, you sound tired." 

"What? Uh, yeah. I- I've been- I musta dozed off there." He gestured to the couch automatically while speaking, even if Marissa couldn't actually see it. "I had a pretty rough day." 

Marissa's brow furrowed in concern. "Are you all right?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired." 

"Maybe I should leave again, then. I must have woken you." 

"No, no, that's all right. Actually, I could use a cup of coffee right now." Gary went to the kitchenette and started preparing the coffee. 

A few minutes later, he produced two steaming mugs of coffee and handed one to Marissa who had sat down on Gary's couch. Gary asked, "Did you see Chuck today?" 

"No, I checked in on him two days ago. He seemed fine." 

"Yeah, I saw him a few days ago." 

Marissa didn't know how Gary and Chuck had gotten along since Chuck's recovery. She painfully remembered how Gary had suffered during the time Chuck had been in the coma. She wondered if he had talked about it to Chuck. "Gary, are you..." She didn't know how to start. "Are you and Chuck - are you all right?" 

An expression of surprise crossed Gary's face. "Yeah, sure. Why sh-" He suddenly stopped. Marissa knew the whole story, didn't she? She knew about how close he had been to a breakdown, she knew what he had gone through, how he had blamed himself for what had happened. She had been there, all the time. But he hadn't told her that he had talked to Chuck about everything, that he had at least partially been freed from the blame. He should have told her, her of all people. He should have seen that she worried about him. He tried to explain it to her. 

"Everything's fine. I- Chuck and I talked about it, I told him about it; about the day he... the day the accident happened. He said he understood and I think he meant it." Gary had to smile. "Chuck can be a pain in the neck but he's got a kind heart, as much as I hate admitting it." 

Marissa now smiled too. That was exactly how she thought about Chuck. "Did you tell him about the construction works too?" 

Gary grew silent for a while. "No, I didn't tell him that." 

"Why not, Gary?" 

"I- I don't know. I guess it didn't seem important." 

"Don't you think Chuck has a right to know?" 

Gary quietly had to admit, "Yeah. Yeah, guess he does." 

An uncomfortable silence followed. Marissa felt Gary didn't want to talk about it and she wasn't going to make him. 

The evening ended quite abruptly with Gary having to tend to an incident in the paper he had almost forgotten about. They left the hotel together and Gary hurried off in the direction of Lake Michigan. 

  
--...----...----...-- 

When Marissa was nearing her apartment door, Spike hesitated, which made Marissa stop. _Was there someone at her door?_ Before she could ask, she heard a familiar voice. 

"Marissa, don't worry. It's me, Chuck." 

Marissa let out a sigh of relief which she hoped wasn't too obvious. "Chuck. What are you doing here?" She was genuinely surprised. She couldn't remember Chuck ever having paid her a surprise visit at her apartment. Something must be bothering him. 

"Oh, I, uh- I just thought I'd drop by, you know. It's not too late, is it?" 

_There was definitely something bothering him, Chuck never just 'dropped by'. _"Why don't you come in first?" Marissa said while opening her door. The both of them entered. After they had gotten rid of their jackets and Chuck had sat down on Marissa's couch, she asked, "You want anything to drink? Coffee, Coke, Soda?" 

"Something sweet." 

"Coke?" 

"Yeah, coke's fine." 

Marissa went to get some coke for Chuck and herself. She settled herself next to Chuck on the couch. At first they exchanged pleasantries, made small talk. Marissa decided that if Chuck had indeed come by to empty his heart, he himself had to make the first move. Eventually that moment arrived. 

"Marissa, do you meet with your parents often?" 

_So, that was it. His parents. _"Well, my Dad died a couple of years ago but I visit my Mom every now and then. We talk on the phone frequently." 

Chuck chuckled sarcastically. "I don't even know what my mother's voice sounds like." 

Marissa mentally went back to the moment where she and Gary had met Chuck's mother in the hospital. She could vividly remember her voice. "She has a rather deep and very warm voice." She silently added, _A voice that was laden with sadness and sorrow._

"Chuck, do your parents know that you've recovered?" 

"I sure didn't tell them. I dunno, maybe the hospital phoned them." 

After a moment's silence, Marissa said, "I haven't got any idea what's been going on between you and your parents but don't you think they have a right to know?" 

"Yeah, that's what I've been trying to figure out myself. They probably do." 

There was another rather uncomfortable silence. Chuck shifted his position on the couch and took a sip at his coke. With the glass in hand he continued, "Must be at least ten years since I've last spoken to my parents. You know, I had moved out immediately after college. And one day I get this phone call from my mother, asking me to come home, they had something important to tell me and my brother. So, I went home. I didn't know what had made it worth having a family reunion other than Christmas. When were all assembled around the big round kitchen table, I finally found out. I was maybe 22 then, my brother was 20. And my parents had decided that now was the time to tell us about a sister we never knew we had. Yeah, I had a sister. And I didn't know I had for 22 years!" 

Chuck fumbled with his glass of coke but continued, " She had been born mentally handicapped and my parents couldn't take it upon themselves to raise her. So, they gave her away. To some children's home. Just like that." Chuck's voice was spraying with contempt and disdain. "Can you imagine? They not only gave away their own child, they also didn't have the courage to tell their sons about her for 20 years. She was three years older than me and she apparently died at the age of 15. I never had the chance to get to know my own sister. What kind of parents are they to pretend their daughter doesn't exist just because she's not like all the other children? I was angry. I accused them of all sorts of things and then rushed out of the house. I've never spoken to my parents since." 

Marissa was speechless for a moment. She had suspected something along these lines behind Chuck's family dispute. But it still took a moment to sink in. "And what about your brother?" 

"Oh, Marc, yeah. He tried to be the mediator for a while. He phoned me a couple of times, telling me to come to my senses and apologize to my parents. Pffft. Me? Apologize? Was he kidding? I told him to kiss his own butt. That was about the end of it." 

"Do you still feel that way now?" 

"I dunno. I mean, it's ten years. Maybe now would be a good time to try and pull down those walls and get in contact with my parents again. I'm not so sure." 

"Your mother already made the first step, Chuck. I think she still loves you. And maybe she regrets what she's done. Some decisions seem to be right at the time but the longer you think about them, you start to doubt them. I believe you should give your parents the chance to explain what they did. It's still your decision." 

"Yeah, it's my decision," Chuck said with a sigh. 

"Does Gary know about this?" 

"Gary? Uh-uh. I- I haven't talked to anybody about this but you," Chuck admitted. 

It was none of Marissa's business to judge about who Chuck confided in about his family matters. But he had known Gary for so many years and hadn't talked to him about this? But if Chuck hadn't decided not to tell Gary, then she wasn't going to change that. 

Chuck put down his glass and looked at his watch. "You know, Marissa, I think I should go home, it's gotten late." 

Marissa felt the awkwardness of the situation hanging in the air. Chuck had just told her his probably biggest secret and now he was shutting down all the blinds again, anxious to flee the scene. But who was she to restrain him? She had to try though. "Chuck, you can stay here overnight if it's too much trouble getting home. I'll sleep on the couch." 

"No. No, I'm fine." With that he stood up and grabbed his coat. "Thanks for everything." 

"Don't mention it. Any time." 

She threw him a "Get home safely" as he was already walking down the corridor and he answered with a "Yeah, I'll be fine." 

Marissa locked the door after him and prepared for going to bed with her thoughts still spinning around what Chuck had just told her. 

  
--...----...----...-- 

_Miaow._

_Thump._

Gary groaned as he heard the all too familiar sounds once again. He looked at the digital clock on his bedside table. 6:30. Of course. 

Inside himself a battle raged. A battle about deciding whether to get up and retrieve that cursed piece of printed paper outside his door or whether to stay in bed five more minutes, leaving the paper to its own fate. He pulled the pillow over his head, pretending just for a minute that the paper didn't exist. The minute ticked by and expanded to 10 minutes, then 15. Gary was still half awake and tried to ignore the occasional _miaow _in front of his door. He didn't care if the neighbors complained. But when the feline sounds grew too insistent, he eventually got up. 

He retrieved the paper and, still in his boxer-shorts and T-shirt, gave Cat his usual bowl of catfood. To himself he mumbled, "Mm-yumm, Tuna Treat," reading out the can's label. Cat didn't really care if it was Tuna Treat or Chicken Chomp, as long as it was cat-food. Gary then fixed his own cereal and settled down to check if there was anything in the paper. There was nothing that needed his immediate help on the first few pages. He munched away on his cornflakes, hoping it would stay a slow news day. 

Suddenly, he choked on his flakes, spitting little crumbs all over the table. A smaller article had his immediate attention. >_EL STATION ROOF COLLAPSES - THREE PEOPLE INJURED_ That in itself wasn't so unusual. What had Gary shocked was the picture which was given next to the article. He could just barely make out Chuck's face, lying on one of the ambulance gurneys that was featured in the picture. _Not another déjà vu experience! _He quickly flew over the text. 7:10 was the given time of the accident. Gary took another look at his clock. 6:56. As quickly as he could, he jumped into the first pair of jeans he could find, threw on a shirt, and ran out of the hotel. 

As Gary was stepping out the front door, a strong and powerful gust of wind caught him in the face. The El station was maybe 10 minutes away. He started running. He could still make it. His sides were already stinging with pain from running. But he had to get there in time, he couldn't let this happen again. He just couldn't. He quickened his pace. 

Rounding the corner, he saw the El station. The roof that sheltered the stairs up to the El platform was going to collapse and bury three innocent passers-by under it. Thankfully, the roof was still in place now. Gary quickly checked his watch. 7:09. He sprinted towards the stairs and could see Chuck already coming from the other direction. He yelled at him, "Chuck! Stop! Don't go up there!" 

Chuck's first reaction was confusion but then he recognized Gary. Gary sounded dead serious, so he'd better do as he was told. Gary approached him and was so out of breath that he was barely able to speak. He gestured to the stairs up to the El platform. "Roof is - gonna - collapse," he managed to get out between taking breaths. 

Chuck just nodded, still startled. But Gary then remembered there were going to be more victims than just Chuck. He looked around. There was nobody else down on the street who was near enough to be taking the stairs up there. They had to be coming from upstairs. _Oh my God, _shot through Gary's head. 

Gusts of wind made the wooden structure of the roof creak and Gary still had the picture from the paper in front of his mind's eye. He could make out a woman with a child at her side just entering the first flight of stairs from above. He let out a desperate "No." and wanted to run up the stairs when he felt a hand at his arm. It was Chuck's. 

"Gar, you can't-" 

But Gary didn't even let him finish and freed his arm from Chuck's grip. He started up the stairs and shuddered as another wind-gust made the roof creak. He could make it! He was almost there. Yelling at the woman to get away from the roof, he took the few remaining steps and literally shoved the woman and the child up the stairs again. Three more steps to go. Two. There was an even louder creak, followed by the sound of splintering breaking wood. One last step. That was it! A deafening sound of crashing wood and metal resonated through the whole street. Gary threw himself protectively over the woman and her kid just in time. A small piece of a wooden beam caught Gary in his lower back. It wasn't a big one but big enough to make him yelp in pain. When he was reasonable sure the immediate danger was over, he crawled off the two of them, seeing if they were okay. The woman looked shocked and the child had started to cry. 

Gary asked, "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I think so," the woman replied. She got up and took her kid in her arms, stroking his hair soothingly. "Are you okay, sweetie?" 

The kid still sobbed but nodded. An expression of relief washed over Gary's face. Then he heard his name being called out. Chuck was still standing down on the street, yelling his name. "Gary? Gar, are you okay?" 

Gary yelled back, "Yeah. No one's hurt. Call the fire department." 

"I already did." 

Half an hour later, the firemen had cleared away enough of the rubble to make the stairs passable for the few people who had been trapped on top of the El platform, including Gary. He was greeted by a still concerned Chuck. "Are you sure you're okay?" He knew that Gary liked to understate his injuries, should he have obtained any. 

Gary told him about the wooden beam but then added, "I'm fine, really. I'll live. I've had worse." 

"You shouldn't mess around with back-injuries, you know that?" Chuck told him. 

"Well yeah. But it's just a scratch. It was only a small piece of wood." Gary tried to convince him. 

"Okay, if you say so." Chuck finally gave in. "You probably saved my life there, Gar. I- I guess I have to thank you for that." 

Gary shrugged it off. "Well, you know, that's what I do. All the time. Saving lives. All in a day's work." He mentally went back to how he had saved Chuck's life before by telling the workers about the power supply cable. He suddenly had to smile at the notion. 

"What are you smiling at?" 

"Oh, I- It's- This is actually the second time I've saved your life." 

Chuck looked at him suspiciously. "How so?" 

"It was when you were- when you were still in hospital. It's a long story." 

"Well, I have plenty of time. Let's go somewhere for a drink after this shock." 

Gary agreed. A drink sounded like a very good idea. He looked at Chuck. "McGinty's?" 

And Chuck just answered, "McGinty's." 

**Chuck's monologue:**  
_So, there we have it. One decision precedes the next. Basically, that's how our lives function. You can only take one choice at a time then pray you made the right one. But some people have more important choices to make that others. In Gary's case, one decision might mean the life or death of someone. Like _my _life or death. But in the end it all turned out right. That's what it all boils down to. You gotta hope that in the end all turns out right._

THE END.  



End file.
